Where I Belong
by supercommpromises
Summary: -ON INDEFINITE HIATUS-Two years after he left her in Hawkins for New York, Mike and El are called to California for a celebration. For the first time they're forced to confront their broken pieces and rediscover who they were. After a week together in the Cali sunshine they have to fly back home, but will home be the same, or will home have become something more than a place?
1. Chapter 1

_**AN:**_

 _ **Hello friends. It's been a while but I'm back with something I'll hope you enjoy. I know I usually update quickly when I post multi-chapter stories but unfortunately this time it won't be the case because I'm still working on this one. It may take a few weeks, I usually prefer finishing or being close to finishing before I post but I think I need a little motivation and I hope you'll help me with that.**_

 _ **I have to thank my writing soulmate eliza dollittle for helping me and being the most perfect editor/creative mind I've ever had the pleasure of knowing. This story would not exist as it is without her and I'm super grateful for her and all of her help. If you haven't yet, check out her story The Things That Happen, that I've been helping her with like she helps me! The next chapter is going to be amazing, I can tell all of you that.**_

 _ **Anywhoo, I hope you'll be patient with me. This another future set Mileven that has no correlation to Just Give Me Reason but potentially will be connected to one or two of my one-shots. If you're wanting just smut, sorry, this has a lot of story and plot, but there will definitely be some sexier times ahead. Mike and El are slightly different versions of themselves in a way here, I think El in this story has lost some of her toughness to the insecurities of the real world. Maybe she can find it again.**_

 _ **I hope you'll like it.**_

* * *

 _"And all this time I have been lying_  
 _Oh, lying in secret to myself_  
 _I've been putting sorrow on the farthest place on my shelf"_

El's fingers clenched the armrests of her seat as the airplane landed, feeling her heart racing as the huge structure bounced along the tarmac. By the time it came to a stop, she was almost hyperventilating, wondering how the hell she was going to survive the flight back to Hawkins after barely managing not to crush every metal can on board with her mind on instinct. She had decided that planes were _not_ fun, despite what her dad and stepmom had said.

The captain's voice came on, mentioning something about staying seated until the seatbelt light went off, but El was still busy unclenching her muscles, not about to go anywhere. She was the only one in her row, thankfully, and after a few deep breaths, she scooted over to the window.

There were dancing heat waves coming off the asphalt and in the distance a few tall palm trees dancing in the breeze on the other side of a faraway fence. _California_. It wasn't exactly pretty, but it was somewhere completely new and despite her nervousness, she felt a flutter of excitement.

 _I did it_.

She had never expected to find herself here, on the other side of the country, sitting in a metal death trap. Never. But then last fall when her phone had rung, and she had been greeted with the sound of one of her best friends yelling excitedly.

" _El!" Max had sounded like she was going to explode. "Lucas justproposedand I hadtocallyou but I'm stillfreakingoutandIcan't—"_

" _Max, slow down," El had barely been able to understand a word. "He did what and you had to call me?"_

" _He proposed."_

 _A gasp. "Lucas did?!"_

" _No, some other guy," Max sassed back, her overwhelming excitement not dimming her spirited nature. "Of course it was Lucas—"_

" _When?!" El shrieked._

There had been a lot of excited screaming as Max recounted the whole story. He had taken her to the beach in the evening to a blanket setup with candles and a picnic. It had been _painfully_ romantic and Max had almost told him she wanted to go home instead of dealing with the cringey-ness of it, but then he'd whipped out the ring and she'd tackled him to the ground. Max talked a thousand miles an hour and El was a little surprised.

Her friend, her only female friend really, had always been the tomboy. After they'd established their friendship back in high school, El had been the girly one, who was deceptively harmless despite the fact that she was actually scarier than anyone else in Hawkins. Some of it had rubbed off on Max, as she begged her friend to let her practice makeup on her and put braids into her long, straight, red hair.

" _So… are you going to wear a dress?"_

" _Yeah! But like, nothing frilly, we want to get married on the beach by the waves and stuff… Lucas really loves the beach. I always knew he would."_

Back in high school, Lucas, on a whim, had applied to Stanford. To no one's surprise except his own, he had been accepted. A California transplant herself, Max had eagerly told her boyfriend that if he moved to Cali, she would be right behind him. He'd since graduated and now worked in Silicon Valley, making big bucks while Max chipped away at her own associate's degree, trying to figure out exactly what she wanted to be.

The redhead spent a lot of her time at skate parks and had actually won several skate and surfing competitions, while working at a skate/surf shop nearby. El had always admired how Max always seemed content with who she was and what she loved, despite not being quite as brainy as her boyfriend. They were solid—though El knew they'd had their share of arguments—and now… they were getting married!

It had made El ponder her own life. She still lived in Hawkins, with her dad and Joyce, who had married after all the kids had graduated from high school. She worked as a part time waitress at the revamped Benny's Diner. One of Benny's old friends had reopened it a few years back, and El had immediately applied for a position, hoping to pay tribute to the first man who had ever showed her kindnes, by working hard and supporting the business he'd loved. While she enjoyed waitressing, her real love was the library, where she also had a part-time job reshelving books and basking in the quiet and tranquility. After her second year working there, El had started dreaming about becoming a librarian—a dream she had shared with precious few people—but wasn't sure she could manage college and getting a degree in library science.

She wasn't sure she could manage anything beyond what she already knew.

Growing up in the lab… it had been her whole world. Hawkins had always felt big enough, the world outside of the small town was too much to handle. No, in Hawkins she knew everyone by name and felt safe and comfortable. There was nothing wrong with wanting to feel safe.

But now she was in California, further than Indianapolis—where they would occasionally drive to for shopping or entertainment—and even further than Chicago. Her brief streak of rebellion in her teens had vanished as the reality of the cold cruelty that lived in the world had made itself known to her. And while she hadn't been afraid to leave everything back then to find the truth of who she was… now she knew. Jane Hopper. El to those who really knew her.

Jane Hopper liked the quiet, calm of an undisturbed library. She liked getting lost in books, and soap operas, and the latest gossip at the diner. She liked knowing what would happen next, her life predictable but easy. It was so much easier than living in fear of who would show up and take her away, or of another interdimensional being trying to destroy her world.

Those days were over. She was safe. She was happy.

 _Happy._

"Excuse me, Miss?" The flight attendant gently tapped her shoulder. "We're deboarding the plane now, if you'd like to get off."

"Oh, yes. Sorry."

El gathered her things and quickly scurried off of the plane, staring around at the airport in front of her. She'd flown out of Indy but had managed a direct flight to San Jose, which, luckily, was one of the smaller airports in the area. _Once you get off the plane find the baggage claim_. She repeated Hopper's words in her head. Looking around she found the signs overhead, pointing her in the direction she needed to go.

Max had said Lucas was coming to pick her up at seven-fifteen, and it was just barely seven which meant she had time yet. _He will be driving a red sedan and will pick you up outside_. El clung to those facts as she found her bag. It took several more minutes to find the way out. When she finally walked into the California sun, there was a honk to her immediate left and she almost jumped a foot in the air in surprise.

Lucas hopped out of the car with his signature wide grin. El felt a wave of relief at seeing a familiar face, quickly replaced by a burst of joy as she rushed along the pavement to wrap her old friend in a solid hug.

"El, hey!" he hugged her back, returning her enthusiasm with the reassuring tightening of his arms. "I'm glad you wanted to come out."

"I couldn't miss it, Lucas. You're my friends." She found herself smiling genuinely. "I would do anything for you and Max."

"We'll never deserve you, El."

He smiled warmly and took her suitcase, loading it into the car with ease and chattering about Max still being at work and how much she'd wanted to be there at her arrival. El nodded, feeling herself relax in the familiar presence of her friend, the tension in her shoulders releasing as she got in the car and they took off.

"So, I'm sure Max told you, but we managed to get a sweet deal at this beachside motel so all of the wedding party and family are able to stay for super cheap," Lucas explained, happily. "It's not… I mean, it's not The Hilton, but there's no bed bugs and the beach is literally on the other side of it, so you can go whenever you want."

"I've never seen the ocean," she said softly.

"It's really beautiful, and huge and so… I can't describe it right. Max was right though, I always thought she was over exaggerating and then we moved here… I love Hawkins but I don't think we're moving back."

"Oh… that makes sense," she agreed slowly.

El turned to look out the window, feeling a pang of sadness.

She missed her friends. The Party. She was the last still left in Hawkins, everyone else's dreams taking them to bigger cities and far away coasts, where her dreams were too, she supposed. Those dreams had come knocking two years ago, in May, during that same summer when everything had fallen apart right in front of her. When the thick envelope had come in the mail, her name written in large, bold letters that had filled her with a mix of anticipatory anxiety and excitement and dread. She'd opened it with shaking hands.

 _Dear Jane Hopper,_

 _It is with great pleasure that I write to inform you that you have been accepted for admission at the Borough of Manhattan Community College. On behalf of the faculty and staff here, I welcome and congratulate you._

Her eyes had skimmed the letter, spotting the words further near the bottom.

 _...pleased to say you have received a full scholarship based on your academic achievements and the brilliant application essay you submitted. Please call or return the enclosed envelope to notify us of your upcoming fall plans and to accept your award._

El had stared numbly at the letter, hardly able to believe what she had read. She had filled out that application as a sort of peace offering, half hope half compromise, not expecting it to actually go through. Up until that point, very few things in her life had gone right, and even though she had done pretty well academically back in high school, she still hadn't been convinced she would ever get a scholarship and hated trying, knowing it would only result in rejection. But she'd filled out the paperwork because she'd had encouragement, because she decided it wouldn't hurt to try, because she was starting to wonder if there could be more for her out there. And because he had believed in her and she knew it would make him happy.

It would make _Mike_ happy.

She flinched back to reality, pushing the memory away before it could seep into her lungs and make it hard to breathe. There was too much pain there.

"Did you eat something?" Lucas asked as he switched lanes, glancing over at her.

"No… but I'm not really hungry."

"You sure?"

She winced but nodded. "Yeah. Flying made me feel gross. I really just want to take a shower."

"Something new, huh? Not great?"

"It was… fine."

Her mind was focused on a million other things, but she kept thinking about how nervous she'd been about flying. It had been worse only once before, two years ago, when her dad had walked into her room and told her he'd bought her plane tickets. He'd been so excited for her, getting everything she needed to start the journey, encouraging her and making her think she could do it.

And she'd almost done it… she'd thought about it, agonized about it, lost sleep about it. It had consumed her to the point of anxiety, she couldn't eat or think about anything else because she had to make a decision and he was waiting on her and there wasn't really a reason to say no.

But there had been. She'd been afraid. _Terrified_ , actually. What leaving Hawkins would mean, what abandoning safety would do. There was so much out there, so much that could hurt, and break, and beat her down. So much _she_ could destroy. She had never forgotten Chicago, the initial feeling of freedom and excitement, fading into fear as she was taught to hide in the shadows. Where she had learned that the world didn't have a place for people like her or Kali.

No one needed her to save them anymore. Now they needed her to be quiet and mind her manners and not draw attention to her freakish powers. All she wanted was to be _normal_ , live a normal life and do normal happy things. And she had, for years and years, safe in the cradle of Hawkins, where people smiled at her and told her she was a good girl, where there was no more fear of uncertainty or other dimensions.

Hawkins was safe. Hawkins was… home.

So why had it ripped her in half? Why had the decision to stay cost her half of her heart?

"El? Hey, you okay?"

"Hm?"

She swiveled to attention, looking over at Lucas, realizing they were parked in front of a quaint motel. It was white-washed, with sun-bleached red shutters on the windows and navy doors and a neat row of rooms. Cute.

"I'm fine," she shook her head, the realization of how far she'd drifted taking over. "Just… tired."

"Yeah, flying does that to you." He agreed with a sympathetic smile. "You're the last one to get here, everyone's flights came in early, so I think you'll get the last room too. We're going to have kind of a party down the street—" He pointed to the left, to a far away sign that read, _Seaside Bar_. "In about an hour and a half. Drinks and food, if you're hungry by then. It's going to be awesome to finally have everyone in one place. You could take a nap if you want, and if you don't want to walk some of the guys rented cars, so I'm sure you could hitch a ride."

"Oh… cool," she nodded, then paused. " _Everyone_ is going?"

"Yup. My entire psycho family, Max's mom and uh, stepdad, and of course, The Party," he smiled brightly, then seemed to realize why she looked uneasy. "Oh, right. Uhh… yeah. He'll be there too. Sorry… I know Max said you were okay with it but—"

"It's fine," she blurted quickly, not wanting him to feel guilty. This was their week, to get married and celebrate with all the people they loved. _All_ of them. "I was just wondering. Don't worry about it, it's not a big deal."

"You sure?"

"It's _fine_ ," she snapped, her true feelings seeping into words. "I told Max it was fine. So, _it's fine_."

Clearly, it was _not_ fine, but Lucas wisely said nothing, instead getting out of the car to disappear into the motel office. A few minutes later he reappeared with a key that was attached to a huge, fake seahorse. El sat quietly as he moved to the back of the car to get her suitcase. With a heavy sigh she let him help her to her room, number sixteen, and he observed her as she looked around the simple room. Mint colored walls. Cream shag carpet. Wave print bedcover. Decent bathroom.

It looked clean and she nodded in approval before turning to face Lucas again.

"When's the party?"

"Nine. You've got about an hour and a half. You don't have to like, dress up or anything though.

It's just a bar."

"Okay."

On impulse she walked over and hugged him again, needing the bit of comfort, and he softened and patted her back. Lucas had always been one of her protectors, even though she was one of the most dangerous humans in the entire world, and she found herself needing to feel safe again, lost in the foreign situation and sea of uncertainty. After a minute he sighed, needing to leave but feeling bad for abandoning her.

"I'll see you later, alright? Max is really excited to see you. It'll be fun," he assured her.

"Okay," she agreed quietly, slowly releasing him. "Fun."

"Yes, fun. Lots of it. All week. And then a wedding. Which will be even more fun… I hope," he said slowly, brows twitching down.

He seemed… not nervous, but unsure, like he wanted to believe everything was going to be amazing, but also knew he was being too optimistic. El reached for his hand and squeezed it.

"It _will_ be fun," she said firmly.

Lucas seemed to appreciate her words, and shrugged, explaining, "There's just… a lot that could go wrong. You know?" He rubbed his head sheepishly. "I know I'm not supposed to care about all of that but…"

"You do. You always care… it's good, Lucas. But you don't need to worry, okay? If anything goes wrong, you have a maid of honor with mind powers on your side."

He grinned. "Yeah… you're right. Can't get better than that."

She gave him another quick hug, for his sake this time, and then he glanced at his watch. "Shit, I have to go. Thanks, El, I'll see you later," he rushed himself back to the door of her room and she waved after him.

"Bye, Lucas."

The door shut and she flopped onto the queen bed with a sigh, staring up at the dimpled ceiling and trying not to worry. A whole week away from home. She was excited to see Max again, to see her friends and be happy… but she was nervous.

Scared.

Terrified, actually.

When Max had asked her to be maid of honor, she'd of course said yes. How could she say no? She loved her friend and she wanted to be there and help her, she would do anything for her friends and this was no different.

But there was one complication: the best man. Her ex-boyfriend of two years. The love of her pathetic life. The person who'd left her behind.

Mike.

Just thinking his name made her stomach twist up and her lungs shrivel, her entire body panicking. What was she going to do? She hadn't seen him in months… since Christmas, actually, and she'd only managed to do just that. _See_ him. Standing in line at Melvald's, holding several packs of Christmas lights and looking cheerful. She'd hidden behind a display of light-up snowmen, watching as he chatted with Mr. Melvald (who was still alive somehow). Mike had been wearing one of his mother's ugly, knit sweater that looked as warm as his eyes.

He'd looked so… good. Not just attractive—though as much as she hated to think about it, that too—but… happy. Or content at least. Not agonized or pained. Like he didn't lose sleep at night thinking about her.

Like he had moved on.

What had she been expecting? He was the one who had left anyway. First college, then New York City. She had been stupid to think that he would want to stay in Hawkins… but it had been her dream. Well, her other dream. The one that felt more… reachable, more realistic and considerably more safe than dropping everything and moving and trying get three degrees just so she could sort books. That was her… smaller dream, her personal one she kept close to her heart, that she wanted to do for herself. Mike was her everything-dream, the future that had filled her vision since she'd first felt his lips press against hers, a fluttering heartbeat that kept her alive. Being with him, getting an apartment or renting one of those little houses by the park together. Getting lunch at Benny's. Visiting her dad and stepmom. Living in Hawkins, in safety, but _together_ … just being normal. It had always felt like enough.

She'd always wanted to just be normal. Maybe that was a cop-out, wanting a white picket fence and a husband and… maybe even kids? It was what she saw everywhere, at the end of every cul-de-sac, happy families with purpose, growing old together. Was it bad to want that after all the years of isolation as a child, after shutting away a netherworld where everything wanted to hurt and destroy? Why did he ask so much of her? Why did he think they had to have more than that?

Maybe she didn't have any more to offer. In the past she'd lain awake at night wondering if she could be more. The world had been opening its arms to Mike, maybe it would do the same for her. That—and his encouragement and reassuring hugs and shining eyes—had been the reason she'd agreed to fill out the paperwork for that damn scholarship. And he hadn't been the only one excited for her.

Her dad—the only one she had told about her acceptance letter—had supported her too, bought her the plane tickets and a luggage set and helped her pack. And when she'd turned around and dropped her suitcases and told him she couldn't do it, he'd taken her back into the house and hadn't been disappointed. As far as she could tell. But somehow he always seemed a little bit… sad? He would look at her with an unreadable expression as she handed him and Joyce their morning coffees before heading to her shift at the diner. Like he wanted more for her.

But she'd been unable to see it the way he did and so she'd lost both of her dreams in one heartbreaking day. She'd called the college office and annulled her application, rejecting the admission officially and feeling less anxious but more disappointed. That dream was gone, or at the very least, silenced.

Then she had told Mike. And she lost him too.

New York had been some mist-hidden dream, fogged by her fear and self-doubt and worries. A shining idea but a terrifying reality. Sure, her dreams were there, the first steps to what she loved to do, an actual career instead of waiting tables and shushing people from dark corners. The boy she loved with all of her heart was there. She was stupid for not wanting to go, rather craving safety and familiarity instead.

But when it came down to it she couldn't go. She was just too… scared. What would happen if she left everything behind, her home, her family, the one place she'd ever felt she belonged? What if she failed? What if she took the leap and fell flat on her face? She could hear Papa's voice of disappointment, telling her that she was only good for one thing. El didn't think she could handle it, if he ended up being right. New York was too big, too bright, and whatever future that was waiting for her there, too uncertain.

The panic overwhelmed her, her fear of disappointing those she loved never fully leaving her, the fear that had been engrained into her in that lab when she was tossed into a cold room when she failed. It was too much, all at once.

So she stayed where it was safe, where she was comfortable. And she'd thought he would stay with her. But Mike had grown, his time away at college lighting an ambition in him she'd never seen but always felt inside of him. He came home at breaks excited, telling her about his work building computer programs and helping companies make things easier; how good it felt when he finished the code and the screen showed him exactly what had been in his mind.

Mike was smart. A genius, she had always thought, someone with a future that could actually change the world. He had so much unrealized potential that she'd always seen, that she had tried to encourage despite her fear of change. Hawkins had been cruel to him, telling him he was stupid and small and ugly, making him insecure. She'd given him courage and he'd followed that confidence to college, his four years away from her growing that belief that he could _be_ something. And something he became.

Before he had graduated he'd applied to several tech jobs, all over the country, and despite being fresh out of college and pessimistic, one day the phone rang and the next thing she knew he was packing up his entire life into a few boxes and bags. A newer tech company in NYC called NexTech had hired him full time as a programmer. Will had offered to let him crash at his place in the city until he could find himself an apartment. Of course, she always wanted the best for him, but she'd already decided what was best _for them_ and it just… hadn't included him leaving.

He'd outgrown Hawkins. He'd outgrown _her_.

It had been difficult for her to accept, but it was the truth. He needed to go and spread his metaphorical wings somewhere they would actually fit instead of staying constrained in Hawkins. How could she keep him from that? How would she be able to live with herself, loving him with all of her heart but keeping him from who he _could_ be?

She refused to let her fear hold both of them back, spinning the tale that the scholarship hadn't gone through and that she couldn't go with him. Keeping herself safe from the inevitable failure that plagued her. Of course, she'd known he would still go. There were too many people counting on him out there. But some small, selfish part of her had hoped he would pick her instead and stay.

But he hadn't.

She hadn't let him, turning and walking away when he confessed that New York was what he wanted. Turning away before he saw the tears and running back to the safety that was her home.

So he'd left her behind. Where she belonged, she supposed, but not where he belonged. Whatever was out there for him, she couldn't be upset with him for wanting it, but she was. The years of long distance had placed something between them that she thought his graduation would fix, but it had been too late. He'd grown up without her. And now he was gone.

For the first few months after he'd left, she had been angry, swearing to get over him. But some part of her heart refused to let go. He came back for Christmas that year and El had been desperate to see him. To see if he felt the pull that she did. She'd gone over to the Wheeler's with a plate of cookies and a smile. Her heart missed him more than anything and she'd hoped maybe seeing her again would remind him of that. His parents had been pleased to see her but Mike… was only more distant.

"Oh, wow, El, um… it's nice to see you," he had said politely. "How have you been?"

And then he had stuck his hand out. For a _handshake_.

She had been so confused. Where was the warm hug and the bright smile and all of the things that had always been a part of him? The reaction he'd always given her for so long. Instead he seemed… uncomfortable. Awkward. Unsure. Like he would have preferred that she hadn't come over at all.

When he'd left, it had broken her heart. But the realization that she didn't know him anymore had completely shattered every part of her. She'd barely made it home, crying so hard she'd almost thrown up, letting her dad carry her to her bed and then letting Joyce cuddle her as she mourned the loss of the first person she'd ever truly loved. The first person to show her unconditional love and caring, even before the warm feelings had come in. He'd always taken care of her, giving her what she'd never had before, and suddenly it was all just gone. She'd been right to turn down the scholarship. He made it clear that they were really, _truly_ over. At least she hadn't sacrificed her home and safety to figure it out.

Her heart never healed. Even now, laying in a half price motel room on a bedcover that probably hadn't been washed in years, the open wound throbbed and pulsed. Sitting up, she sighed heavily and ran a hand through her greasy hair. Ugh, she needed a shower. Maybe she could wash the feeling away. She moved about the room like a zombie, the jet lag setting in, grabbing her toiletries and a towel. Once in the bathroom, she started the shower, keeping the water cool, to help wake her up.

She stepped into the spray, letting the chilly droplets wash away the fog of her mind. But she couldn't keep her thoughts from turning to him, no matter how hard she scrubbed her scalp and lathered the shampoo into her hair, her fingers tugging painfully at the tangled strands. She had always hoped that he would come back to her, come sweeping in and pick her up off her feet and spin her around like he used to. No matter how hard she tried to fight and ignore it and push it away, the undeniable truth still lived in her soul.

She loved Mike.

There would never be someone else that could compare to him.

" _El?"_

" _Hm?"_

 _She had rolled over, sitting up a bit and trying not to hit her head on the underside of the table they were tucked under. They were fifteen and hardly fit into the tiny blanket fort anymore—Mike's legs took up most of the space—but it had stayed up regardless and occasionally they would crawl inside and curl up together. It was quiet and safe and one of her favorite places. Just the two of them._

" _Have you ever heard of soulmates?"_

 _She'd heard the phrase before, on one of her soaps, but the true definition was a mystery to her so she had shook her head. His arms had been wrapped around her waist, his breath warm on her forehead as he gazed down at her, eyes sparking with something warm and bright._

" _The idea is that everyone has one. They're the one person you're meant to be with, who understands you better than anyone else," he'd explained, cheeks flushing. "Someone that you love. More than anything."_

 _Her breath had hitched, the look in his eyes making her heart rate double. No words left her mouth—she had still struggled with words and it was a moment she'd had none—and he'd quickly stumbled on, his arm squeezing her waist like a reflex._

" _Do you… think you believe that?" He'd been nervous, licking his lips. "Or could believe that?"_

" _Yes." It had been a breath, and then she'd tested the word. "Soulmate."_

" _Soulmate."_

 _Their eyes had met and then he'd kissed her, so carefully, like he was afraid she would disappear in a puff of a smoke. They'd never really talked about it after that, but she knew he had brought it up for a reason. He didn't teach her new words unless they were something he wanted her to know. She hadn't needed him to explain why._

"Ugh!" She stuck her face under the cold spray of water and closed her eyes, trying to shut out the memory.

It still made her heart race and her breath catch. She grabbed the bar of soap and raked it across her skin, over and over, scowling. It used to be one of her favorite memories, but now it was just painful. She turned the water colder and let it pelt her, not wanting to think about those sentiments they had shared. Not right before she saw him again. She couldn't look at him and remember all of those feelings.

She couldn't let him know she still loved him.

She _hated_ it. She hated that she still loved him. She wanted to just let it go. Let _him_ go.

But their past memories haunted her at every turn. Their first kiss, their first dance, first class together, first date, first makeout, their imperfect first time together in the cabin. Graduation, the hardest first goodbye as he headed to MIT, the first joyful reunion, all of the times they had frantically touched each other when he came home, trying to let the feelings linger as the months kept them apart. All of it played like one of the beloved, overdramatic soap opera storylines in her mind.

And now, in an hour, she was going to have to pretend like it was _nothing_. She would have to see him, the now stranger she had once loved, and pretend like everything was okay. Her skin was turning red and raw from scrubbing it so hard, her frustration leaving irritated patches all over her body. With a sigh she gave up and set the loofah down, realizing she was just making it worse.

She turned off the shower, and dried herself off. Not ready to face her reflection she left the bathroom and reluctantly opened her suitcase, making an effort to hang her dresses in the closet. Standing in front of the open door, she glared at the array of soft-colored fabric, trying to decide what to wear to the bar. If she had to see him tonight… then she wanted to look good, or at the very least nice. She picked the dress that made her feel most like herself and changed into it. All the while trying to talk herself down.

"It's just food and drinks. You don't have to talk to him," she said out loud, as if speaking the words somehow made them more true. "Lucas's family will be there. That's a lot of people. You won't even see him." She took a deep breath, grabbing her hair dryer and curling iron, and going into the bathroom. "Dustin will be there. And Will. You can hang out with them… it'll be fine."

She fixed her hair, put on some lipstick and mascara, trying to revive her features from the terrified ghost she'd looked like before the shower. It was warm outside, the July temperatures and ocean breeze keeping it comfortable, and she slid on some sandals that went nicely with her soft papaya-colored sundress. Lucas had said she didn't need to get dressed up, but her nerves had decided otherwise and the overall effect still felt casual… but less of a mess than she'd been, hiding the disaster on the inside.

She shoved the garishly large room-key into her purse and set off for the bar. Exiting her room she looked around wearily, the setting sun almost blinding her. It wouldn't be long before it was dark, so she scurried to the sidewalk, following it about two and a half blocks down to the bar Lucas had pointed out earlier.

It was a cute place, tropical-themed, with tiki torches and brightly colored lights strung over the wood plank patio. Lucas's family were already filling half the tables and she tried to walk in unnoticed, looking for someone she knew, hoping to find Max. There was a familiar head of red hair at the walk-up bar and a uncontrollable smile spread across her lips. She hurried over, tapping her friend's shoulder.

Max turned, a huge grin on her face that only got bigger as she realized who it was.

"El!"

Max had never been huge on physical affection, but clearly the whole wedding thing was affecting her brain and she almost tackled the smaller girl over. El laughed affectionately, noticing that the bride-to-be smelled like tequila. Alcohol definitely also had something to do with it.

"Max, woah," El giggled. "How many have you had?"

"Just one margarita!" Max lowered her voice. "They make them really strong here. You should have one. Or two."

"Max…"

A lime colored drink was pushed into her hand and El gave in without protest, figuring a little alcohol might make everything a little less…harsh. And margaritas were usually pretty good.

"I'm so glad you're here, Elle-belle," Max hiccupped. "I'm getting fucking married."

"Yes. You are. Are you happy?"

"Yes! Kind of nervous, I guess, but like… Lucas is so fucking great. I wanna marry the shit out of him."

El laughed, deciding that was a very Max way of putting it. She sucked down her drink, the tequila hitting her empty stomach and giving everything a lovely wooziness almost immediately. Max had been right… they were _strong_.

A second one somehow made it to her hands as they continued to talk about everything, the plans for the ceremony, the bar crawl for the bachelorette party, Max's job, her latest competition, how fucking crazy all of it was. El munched on my chips and salsa, finishing her second drink and feeling _fantastic_. The pair talked on the phone often, but it was nothing compared to sitting across a table and laughing together and her heart glowed warmly in her chest as she smiled at her friend. Everything was so fucking great, she was in California with her best friends.

Dustin and Will had appeared when she'd been halfway through her first margarita, but the girls had been planning the bachelorette party at that time, and after hugging and exclaiming how much they missed the boys, they had wisely moved on, promising to rejoin the girls when the conversation had less drunken screams and talk of penis-shaped things.

After the boys left, El found her eyes once again scanning the patio, her heart rate quickening as she reluctantly searched for the familiar mop of dark ebony hair. She let out a breath of relief when she didn't see him, and turned back to her friend, who was watching her with an appraising look.

Max opened her mouth to say something, and El felt like this was the exact moment she absolutely needed some water. Telling her friend she'd "Be back with something other than alcohol", El stood up and moved toward the bar, stumbling a little on her journey. Woah, she was drunker than she'd realized. Water, yes that was exactly what she needed. Dilute the margaritas in her system.

The bartender handed her two large glasses of water, one of which she took a long, satisfying drink from. Water was amazing. Everything about the night was amazing. How was life just so fucking amazing?

She twirled gracelessly, letting the skirt of her dress dance around her legs, ready to prance back to the table. Instead she ran full force into somebody's chest, barely keeping from spilling her water. A hand caught her shoulder, steadying her, and she giggled at her clumsiness, feeling like an idiot but not really caring. She looked up to thank her savior and apologize for being a tipsy mess.

Her eyes met blackened amber, twin stars of darkness, and pale skin with freckles, the very freckles she had spent years memorizing. The oxygen left her lungs as she stared up at the person who still haunted so many of her dreams.

Mike.

"El?"

He looked as surprised as she felt, and she was was fuzzy… everything seemed to be moving except she and Mike. She felt angry, and sad, and frustratingly _happy_ , and something else… but she was drunk. Part of her wanted to throw herself into his arms, another part wanted to burst into tears, but the biggest part was suddenly fiery with rage.

How dare he look at her like that. Like he was worried about her. Like he cared. He wasn't allowed to care about her, or even pretend to. Not after what he did. Not after he'd made it clear how little she meant to him. How _dare_ he.

The anger took precedence and she let herself act on her first impulse, doing the only thing she could think to do in her current situation.

She splashed the contents of both large cups of water right into his face, her lips twisting into a snarl of rage.

And then she dropped the cups and _ran._

* * *

 ** _AN:_**

 ** _I would love to hear your thoughts. A little encouragement would be welcome, the sooner I write more the sooner I'll get you another chapter, only this time from Mike's perspective. Get ready for a wedding and all of the fucking angst you can imagine._**

 ** _~Wyn_**


	2. Chapter 2

**_AN:_**

 ** _I wasn't planning on updating until this Friday but I'm getting close to finishing chapter five so I feel like it's time. Thanks for all the amazing reviews and encouragement. I appreciate those a lot... but not so much when it's just an a spam of "please update please update please update, etc". That kind of just makes me feel guilty and annoyed. Encouragement is really appreciated but I'm not a trained monkey and I won't spit out another chapter because of demands, I want to feel like what I have is ready for you guys before I post it and nothing is going to happen until I reach that point. Tell me what you like about it or how it made you feel. That shit makes me scream in the best way. I want to make you guys happy too._**

 ** _Anyways, like I said, I appreciate all the encouragement 100% and it's really been helping motivate me._**

 ** _Hope you like Mike's perspective._**

* * *

 _"We let the waters rise_  
 _We drifted to survive_  
 _I needed you to stay_  
 _But I let you drift away"_

Mike jolted awake.

It was dark and he rolled over, spotting the time on the alarm clock and then thrashing wildly under the blanket as he tried to sit up.

Nine forty-two. The party started at nine. He knew had been tired and stressed but _seven hours_? What the hell?

His flight had left LaGuardia at five thirty in the morning, so he had woken up at three to make sure he had enough time to get there and get his ticket and luggage and everything. The flight had been five and a half hours and he'd been airsick the whole time, a miserable almost six hours of drinking several cans of ginger ale and hanging his head over the barf bag. When he had slept it had been only for minutes at a time before the plane would jolt or a baby would scream and he would startle upright again. It had been hell and not even Max's optimistic face picking him at the airport had been able to rouse him. Mike wasn't sure how she could be so chipper considering it was seven in the morning her time.

She'd taken him to get some coffee and then they'd picked up Dustin. Despite his foul mood it had been good to see his old friend, and what's more Dustin was always talkative, so he could carry the brunt of the conversation, allowing Mike to sleepily push his eggs around his plate. His friend had successfully filled the small diner with chatter about his tech development firm in Chicago and the boy scout troop he'd started leading a few months prior. He'd never really let go of his fondness for compasses and had managed to find a captive audience to explain them to. Perfect.

Will's absence had been felt at the table, but Mike's roommate had flown in the day before, having found a flight with a layover in Indy in order to meet his mom for a quick lunch. Mike's flight had been the cheaper option so he'd stuck with it despite the god awful early hour. And he hadn't really wanted to stop in Indiana. There wasn't really anything there for him anymore.

Okay, well, his parents were there, of course, and Holly. Mike tried to always make it home for Christmas and visit in the spring or summer if he could get away. They were always happy to see him but never minded that he was living his own life and had things to do. The magnetic pull that had driven him back for so many years was gone and now driving through Hawkins made him a little sad more than anything.

Because she didn't want him.

Mike swiped a hand over his tired face, as if trying to wipe the jet lag off of him. _This is for Lucas,_ he reminded himself. _It's going to be fine._

With an annoyed huff he climbed out of bed and pulled off his rumpled sweatpants. He hopped into a pair of jeans and rummaged around in his suitcase for a button up. After dressing he ran his fingers through his dark hair and stumbled into the bathroom to splash water on his face and brush his teeth, hoping that this ritual would push away the fuzziness that came from ill-timed sleep. Max had dropped them off at the motel around two and he had turned down Dustin's invitation to hang out on the beach so he could pass the fuck out in his room, the jetlag and early start enough to render him totally dead to the world.

He looked at the time once again, as he finished fastening his watch to his wrist. Lucas was going to give him so much shit for being late. What kind of best man was late to the first wedding event… even if it was just drinks and small talk at a bar?

And fuck, he still had to plan the bachelor party. He needed to talk to Dustin about that one for sure. And pick up his rental car. Damn it… why had he slept all afternoon instead of doing things?

He didn't have time to think, pulling his shoes on and then grabbing the key to his room—which was attached to a miniature, red and white life preserver—he shoved it into his pocket and bolted for the door, locking it and almost running down the sidewalk towards the bar that Max had pointed out earlier. Why hadn't someone come and woken him up? Will or Dustin? He was so used to sharing a room and being able to count on someone else caring if he forgot things or overslept, but obviously that hadn't worked this time.

The fresh ocean breeze was a welcome change to the stale, processed air of the plane and his motel room. Taking a moment to collect himself, he breathed the crisp salty air down into his lungs. It was dark out now, the sound of the waves that were invisible beyond the artificial lights of the paved streets, filling the quiet with pleasant white noise. Mike was finally beginning to feel like himself again. So instead of rushing, he slowed, and tried to calm his racing heart, taking easy steps and rationalizing that if he was already this late, ten minutes wouldn't make a difference.

By the time he entered the bar, he actually had a cheerful smile on his face. That was until he was accosted by none other than the groom himself.

"Wheeler!"

Mike found himself tackled into a hug by his friend. He returned the gesture, genuinely happy to see him, despite the argument he knew was coming. Lucas leaned back and leveled with him, "Way to be late, asshole, the party's already started!" He feigned sincerity, but the effect was ruined by Lucas' infectious grinning. "We're all drunk and you're _way_ behind."

"Well I—"

"Drink this."

There was suddenly a large glass shoved into Mike's hand, half filled with light golden liquid. Yes, a drink after the day he had would be nice. Thinking it was some sort of mixed drink, Mike tilted his head back and took a huge swig, foolishly deciding to trust his friend. He almost choked, barely managing to swallow the mouthful of burning alcohol, his throat aching and his eyes watering.

"Shit, Lucas," he coughed. Although the sound of it was drowned out by his friend's laughter. "Why didn't you tell me it was straight tequila?"

""Cause I knew you wouldn't drink it if you knew what it really was." Lucas was still grinning, highly amused. "That's your punishment for being late. Gotta finish the whole thing." He shoved the glass towards Mike again.

"This is like three shots worth!" He protested.

"Yeah, man, I told you, you're waaaaay behind."

"Fuck you," Mike groaned, taking a much smaller sip and wincing.

Lucas's eyes danced and Mike realized he hadn't seen his friend since Christmas, when he'd asked him to be best man. He looked… stupidly happy, and Mike couldn't help but feel a burst of warmth in his chest at his friend's joy. Or maybe it was just the tequila.

"So, you ready to get married in a week?"

"Hell yeah!" Lucas bobbed his head happily. "It's going to be a week-long party and then the wedding… which is gonna be an even bigger party. I mean, Max is like the best thing that ever fucking happened to me. And she's going to wear a _dress_. What's not to celebrate?"

"She's wearing a dress?" Mike couldn't hide his shock. "Like white and fluffy?"

"Yeah, something like that. I almost fell over when she told me, but now I'm just excited because she's going to look so good and…" He put a hand over his heart. "You might have to keep me from passing out, man."

"That's what the best man is for, right?"

They laughed and Mike felt at ease, sipping his tequila and slowly getting used to the taste enough to drink about half of it even though he would have preferred a beer, or at the very last, a mixer. But Lucas's punishment was final and he knew if he argued he would lose, so he tried to make the best of it. Everything was feeling warmer and slower and he didn't notice Dustin coming up behind him.

"Hey, Mike, nice of you to finally join us," Dustin forcefully bumped Mike's shoulder, but he was smirking playfully. "Aren't you supposed to the best man? Be on time and responsible and stuff?"

"You're not still mad, are you?" Mike groaned.

It was a joke, for the most part, but Dustin was competitive enough to be wounded that he wasn't best man. He knew Mike and Lucas had known each other longer, but he was the kind of person to get… dramatic.

"Nah, of course not," he waved it off. "Why would I be mad?"

"Because you like to be mad sometimes," Mike rolled his eyes and took another sip of his almost empty drink. "It's not like I picked it. Why aren't you yelling at Lucas?"

"Because he's the groom and I'm not gonna ruin his wedding."

There was no arguing with the flawed logic and instead of trying to, Mike finished the last of the tequila, feeling like he very much needed some water. His throat was dry and burning and suddenly everything was a little woozy and so damn _warm_. He had already rolled up the sleeves of his shirt and unbuttoned his collar. Why was California a hundred fucking degrees?

"Kay, whatever, I'm gonna get some water," he blustered, waving off Dustin and staggering towards the bar. "When I get back we're talking 'bout the bachelor party 'cause I need your help."

His eyes focused in on the bartender, who was smiling at a young woman who was ordering, and he headed towards the wooden counter. He had been too busy to think about anything other than getting to the party, but something about the girl's curly brown hair seemed familiar, and he blinked, trying to get the synapses in his brain to fire and carry back the necessary information for him to remember.

The girl whirled around. She was holding two glasses of water, and his mind focused on those, feeling his throat get even drier, too slow to dodge out of her way. Her feet didn't stop her in time and she bounced off of him, barely managing to keep the water from spilling. Oh, shit! He really needed to watch where he was going. Mike opened his mouth to apologize, but then her chin tilted up and he felt his stomach hit the floor.

El.

Her hair was shorter, barely brushing her shoulders, and he realized she must have cut it. No wonder he didn't recognize her. Last time he'd seen her—Last summer? Or was it the Christmas before that?—her hair had been much longer, flowing down her back in curly waves. She had told him back in high school she wanted to get it as long as possible after the years of the forced buzzcut. It had been one of her silent rebellions, against what she had been made into, and he had always admired her. What had made her want to change that?

Somehow that's what his mind decided to focus on, slowing him enough that his tongue faltered and nothing came out of his mouth except one word. The only thing he could possibly think of, the person filling his vision, his brain fuzzing over, half alcohol, half surprise.

"El?"

Her eyes were huge, obvious shock written all over her pretty face. How had he forgotten how crazy beautiful she was? It almost took his breath away, the way she glowed under the soft twinkling lights above them, cheeks flushed pink to match her soft lips, hungrily taking the sight of her in as they stared at each other. Then, suddenly, every light in the bar flickered, the familiar brown doe-eyes that so often haunted him at night, filled with something else. Anger and hurt and… hate?

Before he could spit out anything more, a greeting, or a question, or _anything_ , there was icy water splashing into his face. Mike spluttered, taking a step back, completely taken by surprise and unsure of how to react. The cold shocked him a bit sober, and he blinked the water out of his eyes, watching as the ghost from his past dropped the empty cups, her chin trembling, and then turned and ran away.

Mike felt his feet moving, going after her automatically, a long-forgotten reflex come back to life. He'd thought about it before, what it would be like to see her again. He had figured it would be awkward, uncomfortable. But it was obvious that there was more going on. Clearly she wasn't happy with him—she'd just thrown water in his face—but he could tell she was upset about more than that.

There was more to this than just being ex-lovers and suddenly he needed answers. Even though he'd given up on what they'd had, even though he knew he couldn't allow himself to be anything to her anymore, he needed to just… _do_ something. He'd spent two years doing nothing.

And he was drunk enough to finally admit to himself that he missed her so much his lungs hurt.

He followed her as she ran out of the bar into the dark night, towards the sound of softly roaring waves and splashing water. His feet hit sand and he stumbled, barely catching himself. The glimmer of the moon on her pale orange dress caught his eye, right at the edge of the water. She had stopped, staring out over the ocean, her eyes widening.

"El?"

She didn't react and he tentatively moved closer, going up behind her, a hand reaching out, unsure.

"Why did you follow me?"

Her voice was cold and he let the hand drop. How was he supposed to answer that when he wasn't even sure himself? Other than that he missed her, which was definitely not an option right now. His brain was still struggling to think of intelligent answers, and instead he just spewed out the closest thing to the truth.

"I wanted to make sure you were okay," he exhaled, slumping a bit. "And I just wanted to… see you."

She still didn't move, but her shoulders relaxed as she continued to stare out over the water, saying nothing. Mike suddenly felt agitated by her lack of reaction, and—though he didn't want to admit it—with himself. They had hardly spoken in the two years since he had left Hawkins and within the first ten minutes of seeing each other, she had thrown two cups of water in his face and stormed off. He hadn't _done_ anything. He'd barely spoken to her, a few sentences, and _this_ is what he got?

The anger that had filled her eyes surged within him as he watched her stare out over the water, staying silent despite his rather uncouth confession. She really didn't have anything to say to that?

The moon came out from behind a cloud, making everything brighter, and then he saw that she was trembling. His anger died and he let out a tired sigh. Neither of them seemed to be okay, but he realized something in her was hurting too and he let the irritation fade away. He didn't know why _she_ was angry, but clearly she wanted to pretend like it he wasn't there.

It solidified what he already knew. She didn't want him. Not even a little bit.

He had found that out after she'd looked up at him and shook her head all those years ago. When she had told him the scholarship had fallen through and that she couldn't go with him, that it was too big of a risk and that she wanted him to be happy. That he needed to go and live his life and be happy without her.

" _There's nothing for you here, Mike. Go. Don't wait for me," she had said, her face oddly emotionless. "I can't come with you."_

" _You can, we can figure it out when we get there—"_

" _No, Mike. It's over, okay? Your plane leaves in two hours. It's time for you to go." She had_

 _turned away from him, facing her house, arms crossed._

" _El, come on—"_

 _He'd reached for her again and then froze, pushed back by an invisible force. She rarely used her powers, and never against him. Something in him had shriveled, his certainty of her love for him suddenly vanishing. How could she be telling him to leave?_

" _You have things to do. I won't be the reason you give up your dream."_

" _But—"_

" _Do you want to move to New York?" She had whirled around. "That's where your job is. And_

 _Will too. Don't you want to move?"_

" _Well, yeah," he furrowed his brow. Of course he wanted to move out of Hawkins and start a job he knew he would love and hang out with his best friend. But he wanted her there too. "Of course I do."_

Mike had only realized too late, that there had been a question in her eyes that day, and at the sound of his answer they filled with what he had assumed was anger. She had been annoyed with him, and that was when he realized that she was trying to get him to leave because she didn't want him there anymore. She didn't want him to stay. She didn't want him.

It had been the only logical explanation. Why else would she be giving up so easily? She was a fighter, or at least she had been, and at the time he couldn't understand why she just… stopped trying. In the end, he had to resign himself to the fact that it was because she didn't _want_ to try. The future he'd planned for them out in New York suddenly shattered with a single, simple gesture. There had been so much he'd wanted to do, with her, and all of it had become impossible.

He had been sure it had been his fault. She was finally beginning to see that there were other options out there than him. New York City, with all of it's adventures and shining streets, wasn't what she wanted. _He_ wasn't what she wanted. Not anymore. Some part of him had wanted to stay, but he'd already helped Will with the down payment on the apartment they were going to room in and he'd accepted the job and all of that wouldn't have mattered if she'd just… said she still wanted him.

But instead she had nodded, turned around, and walked back into her house. When she had released her mental grip, he had still been frozen, staring at the closed door, feeling his heart shatter. Part of him had wanted to to run to it and pound on it and make her go with him, make her see that it was what she wanted. Then the anger had filled him and he'd turned around and stomped away, getting in his car and driving back to his house, his temper and the hurt blinding him.

So he had left, flying far away.

And then the regret had hit.

Why hadn't he tried harder to reason with her? Missing his flight would have been stupid, but damn it all, he _loved_ her. He had tried calling her house several times but both Hopper and Joyce told him she wasn't there and she never called back. It made the hope in his chest shrink, but he wasn't ready to give up yet.

He had his ticket to go home for Christmas. Maybe that would be enough time. Maybe he could come back and after a few months without him, she would want him again. Maybe he could talk to her and make her realize that he had waited for her back when they were kids, he would still wait for her now. And part of him had been afraid, his soul was missing part of itself, the part that she filled. Her smile and laughter, the way she smirked as she straddled him during a tickle fight, the way she kissed him when he brought her flowers.

Who would he be without her?

Those first six months had been a frantic attempt to try and not set too many roots down, just in case his move was a temporary one. Before he'd gone back to Hawkins he'd had to run down to the community college to sign up for a programming class that his company wanted him to take, some new program they were thinking about buying. It had been last minute and he'd been reluctant to commit to anything taking place after the new year, unsure if he would even return. But his responsible side had convinced him to at least get his name down and cancel later if he needed to.

The class had been pricey and he'd asked about scholarships, figuring it was worth a shot. The woman he'd talked to had been overly chatty but kind, telling him that there was only one currently available, but it was only for a full time student. It had been turned down over the summer and they hadn't reselected a candidate.

" _What? Who turns down a full ride scholarship?" He'd snorted._

" _Some girl out in bumpkin country. Indiana… some tiny town I'd never heard of… Hastings? Holland?"_

 _Mike had felt himself break out into a cold sweat. "Hawkins?"_

" _Yeah, that's the one! I mean, I know we're just a community college, but I figure a free ride is a free ride, and in New York City of all places." The woman had shrugged. "Anyways, I don't think I can help you, sweetie, but if you want to check for grants, I have a list of them—a book really—that you could look at if you wanted…"_

He had turned her down, stumbling out of her office and feeling… lightheaded. He knew exactly who the girl in Hawkins, Indiana was. The one who had applied for the scholarship around the time he'd graduated from MIT. The one who had lied to him and told him she hadn't gotten it, that there was no point in her going with him.

Why had she lied?

He'd laid in bed all night, agonizing over it. The delusion he'd been trying to live in crumbled and he realized that she truly didn't want him. Why else would she have turned down her dream? The thing she'd been wanting, to learn to be a librarian. She had turned it down so that she wouldn't have to be with _him_. She had given it up. To stay away from him.

She didn't love him anymore.

That had been the worst night of his life, where the piece of his heart he'd been saving for her, to offer back to her upon his return, finally shattered. He had nothing left to give, nothing she would want, and he'd stared at the water stain on the ceiling of his room and spiraled down to the blackest despair he'd ever felt.

He'd lost her once, for three hundred and fifty-three days. Three hundred and fifty-three days of uncertain hell, where he tried to convince himself she was alive and out there and listening, his hope enough to get him through. But his hope was gone. She didn't love him. She wasn't listening for him anymore.

The next morning he'd thrown his tear-soaked pillowcase into the washing machine with the rest of the clothes he was getting ready to pack to head home. The visit had been torture, everything reminding him of what he used to have. When she'd shown up at his house with a plate of cookies, it was like a knife to the heart. She was fine. She was so fine that she even brought his family cookies. He'd been thoroughly confused, treating her politely because… what the hell else was he supposed to do? It was better than foolishly confessing his undying love and alienating her further. There had been a hope that they could maybe still be friends, but he wouldn't try and hold her back by burdening her with his love.

He had finally, truly, let her go. Even though it tore him apart.

After that they drifted back into the realm of strangers, occasionally saying hello if he ran into her on one of his trips home. He tried to move on, for her sake. He had talked to new people, went on a few dates, tried to distract himself from the scar that covered his heart, that still throbbed when he let himself think of her. In a way he had convinced himself that he was over her… he didn't see her, he let himself get busy, he let himself try and forget, and in a way he had.

But he had kept the keychain she'd bought him, the one with their prom picture in it, throwing it into a desk drawer and occasionally stumbling across while hunting for batteries or a pen. He didn't look at it that much… but he kept it there, unable to throw it away, figuring he would keep a piece to look back on someday if she decided they couldn't even be friends. If he had been honest with himself, he would have known the real reason.

The reason that was now callously smacking him in the face as he stood there on the moonlit beach with her. It was because he still loved her, even though he tried not to. And now she was just three feet away from him, trembling with an anger that he didn't really think was fair.

"El," he tried again, forcing patience into his tone. "I'm sorry… I don't know—"

"Max was right," she cut him off, her voice not filled with the anger that he'd expected, but defeat.

He paused, caught off guard. "Right about what?"

"The ocean. It's… so... big."

She was wearing sandals and stepped into the wet sand, looking down as the cool water lapped over her feet. Large bodies of water normally scared her—too much like the Bath—but something about the ocean was comforting, the salty breeze warm as the black water made its way up her calves. It was like she was trying to ignore him in hopes he would go away and she could pretend that everything was okay again. He wouldn't let her.

"Woah, El, wait. It's not safe at night," he worried, walking after her.

His hand was on her shoulder, gently pulling her back, and she let him, the touch making her shiver, goosebumps raising all over. A pulse of electricity zapped up his arm and he swallowed, feeling strangely lightheaded. It was the first time they'd touched since… he had moved to New York.

She whirled around, smacking his hand off of her, and then she took off running again, her instinct causing her to flee from what was making her feel unsure. From him. Again he followed her, letting out a groan at her choice to run, but catching up to her quickly, and staying a few respectively distanced steps behind her.

"Why are you following me?!" she yelled, annoyed.

Mike felt his own temper spike. "Because it's dark, and you're drunk, and there's no way I'm letting you walk out here by yourself."

"I've killed people." It was a grumble.

"Not when you're drunk."

"You're just as drunk as me."

"But I'm a guy and for some reason that means I can protect you."

She huffed her annoyance, her run having turned into a fast walk. His long legs made it easy for him to keep up and she spotted their motel up the beach, turning to walk back towards solid ground, her gait much steadier on the sidewalk than the sand.

"Why do you care?" she spat over her shoulder at him. "You shouldn't."

Mike balked at that. "And why shouldn't I?"

She stomped along the sidewalk to her room. Mike followed, waiting for his answer. They ended up in front of her door, and he watched curiously, as she reached to her shoulder, as if she was reaching for strap of a purse that wasn't there. Then she froze.

"No!" she groaned, covering her face with her hands. She furiously started fishing her hands into the pockets of her dress. "No, no, _no_. I forgot—"

"What do you mean, no?" argued Mike impatiently. Of course he cared about her. Why was that so hard to believe?

A furious stare was her only reply, and she moved quickly around him, heading back in the direction of the bar. No, they weren't done here. He needed her to answer the damn question before his head exploded, his hand reaching out for her again as she took a few steps away.

"No. We're not doing this," she ignored his questions. "Not now."

"Then when? At the fucking wedding?" He bristled, his irritation finally surfacing. "You need to tell me—"

"I don't need to do anything," she hissed, trying to take a step away.

His hand caught hers, pulling her to a stop, though she refused to turn to face him. He stared at the back of her head, fighting the urge to reach out and stroke the chocolate curls that floated against the nape of her neck. Were they still as soft as he remembered?

He shook himself out of it, her hand trembling in his, letting out a heavy sigh as he took in the predicament. His fingers released her and she let her arm drop back to her side, limp and tepid. At least she wasn't running away again.

"El, why shouldn't I care?" he pressed, taking a step closer. "Why do you keep saying that?"

Everything seemed to explode.

"Because you _left me_!" She turned to him, meeting his eyes, her face flushed with hurt and anger. "You _left_ me so don't pretend like you care now!"

"But I—"

"No! I c-can't—" She cut him off with a shaky breath. "Don't pretend, Mike." Her voice cracked and he realized it was the first time she'd said his name. "Don't pretend like you care, okay? I can't… I can't do that. Just don't."

There were tears in his eyes and he didn't understand what she was saying. How could she think that? Was _that_ why she had pushed him away?

"I'm not pretending, El. I do care about you, god, do you think I don't?" He shook his head, his still-wet hair spraying droplets of water everywhere. "I never stopped caring about you. Even though you stopped… wanting me." He would have never admitted any of it to her, but he was just drunk enough that the truth he'd been running from spilled from his lips like a broken faucet.

"What?" Her brow creased in confusion.

The tension and anger that had been there before seemed to deflate, replaced with a heavy silence, as they stared at each other. His revelation weighed down on them, her mouth gaping open as her eyebrows puckered together.

"I know we haven't… talked in a while," he blurted quickly, desperate to fill the huge void between them. "But I still care about you. I'm always going to care about you. I loved you too much to just… stop caring."

"No, I mean—" She had to take a deep breath, his words seemed to be breaking her down. "You think I stopped wanting you?"

"You said no. You said you didn't want to come with me. I wasn't enough for you," he shrugged, not trying to make her feel bad but being honest. "It's okay, El. I get it. You wanted different things and I wasn't part of that. I'm not mad—"

"I _want_ you, Mike."

It was a simple sentence but suddenly his heart tripped madly in his chest and he stared at her unblinkingly. He was speechless for several painful seconds, staring at her with eyes that widened to an almost comical degree, finally managing to choke out a totally intelligent response.

" _What_?" He was sure he had misheard her. That he was drunk and crazy and hearing what he wanted to hear. "I mean… what?!"

"I… I never stopped wanting you, Mike. I didn't want you to leave." She looked like she was in pain, her hands nervously gripping the skirt of her dress. "I just couldn't go with you."

They stared at each other, both seeming to be at a loss and trying to handle the flurry of emotions and sudden revelations in their drunken state. He wanted to grab her and kiss her and hold her close. To touch her and taste her and feel all of the things he'd been missing. She had told him she still wanted him, and his body was reminding him just how badly he still wanted _her_. He wanted her so bad he was shaking.

And she was standing in front of him, looking ethereal under the moonlight, telling him she wanted him too. She was beautiful and nervous, staring up at him, teeth pulling her bottom lip into her mouth as she waited for his reply. His eyes followed the movement, the way her tongue traced over the indention she'd put there, fixated on the perfect pink petal of her lip.

His drunken brain could only focus on one thing and then his hands were cupping her cheeks and pulling her towards him. Her arms were on his chest and she was staring up at him, the same want in her eyes, burning just for him. Despite the trembling, his thumb found the curve of her lip and then she lunged up to meet him, their bodies colliding.

Their lips met and she knocked him back against the door of her room, her hands tangling up into his hair as she frantically kissed him, uncertain and needy. She parted her lips, letting him in, and he gathered her in his arms, trying to pull her even closer.

"Fuck, El," he breathed against her lips.

Mike was out of his mind. They continued to kiss desperately as he pulled his key out of his pocket, and shuffled them towards his room, which he realized was right next door to hers. Fucking amazing. He had her pressed against the door, needing to be closer as he fumbled around with the key in the lock. Finally having to break apart, in order to unlock the door. He continued to fumble the key, as she pressed hot, open mouthed kisses along his neck, making it almost impossible to concentrate. The door finally opened, and they stumbled into the room together. He tripped over a lamp, catching it and turning it on, and when he turned around she was watching him with hazy eyes, her fingers clutching the edge of her dress. In a single fluid movement, she pulled it up and over her head, letting it fall to the ground.

Mike felt his mouth drop open, then shut it, suddenly realizing what was happening, his responsible common sense breaking through the drunken haze.

"Wait…" The words came slowly. "We shouldn't—"

"Mike." She said his name again but softer, breathy even, and he shivered. "It's okay."

"No, I shouldn't—"

"Mike, _please_."

How could he say no? There wasn't a single speck of resolve in his body that could keep him from refusing her and he let his gaze wander down to her body. Her underwear didn't match at all, her bra was nude and her panties were green with palm trees on them and he blinked, thinking it was cute as fuck but not entirely sure what he was allowed to be feeling.

"Um—"

"You still want me," she said it as a statement, but he heard the question in her voice.

"Of course," he whispered thickly. "Always."

She threw herself at him and he staggered, the alcohol in his veins making him even clumsier than usual, barely managing to angle it so they fell onto the bed instead of the floor. He grunted as she landed on top of him but then she was kissing him, his face, cheeks, nose, eyes, everything and his hands were on her hips, pulling her closer. Their lips met and he was sure he was dreaming, positive that at any second he would wake up in his bed back New York with only the stain on the ceiling to keep him company.

Her teeth clamped onto his lip and he groaned as she tugged it and then let go, feeling a fire explode into his veins. This was no dream. She was really here, on top of him and kissing him in her underwear, and he grabbed her face and pulled her down to kiss her fiercely. His tongue found hers and he traced her lips, teasing, feeling her whimper and press herself against him harder.

She pulled back long enough to push his shirt up, over his stomach and then chest, her small hands soft as they felt every inch of him. He let her take it off of him, groaning as she kissed down his neck to his chest, her teeth nipping at his skin, going lower until her hands were unbuttoning his shorts and ripping those down his legs too. She seemed more than willing to please him, her hands reaching for the elastic waistband of his boxers, but he wanted to feel her lips against his lips, quickly pulling her back up before she could get too far.

They fit perfectly, their clothes-covered centers pressing together, a whimper leaving El's throat as she kissed him, unable to keep her hips from wiggling against him. Giving in, he grabbed her waist and thrusted his hips, groaning and squeezing his eyes shut as the thin layers of their underwear allowed him to feel her. She felt so _good_ , just like he had remembered, and she grinded herself down harder, throwing her head back.

There were no words, just moans and whimpers as they gave in to each other. It was two years of pent-up emotions, lust and desire, anger and hurt, relief and longing. His hands wandered and he looked up at her, that possessive urge to claim and dominate filling him.

He flipped them, her back hitting the mattress as he came down on top of her, his hands finding the soft skin on her sides and stroking, feeling her shift beneath him, her legs wrapping around his hips. Her arms wrapped up under his, pulling his bare chest against her almost naked one and he moaned, unable to help himself. It was every dream he'd had since they had split, reuniting and touching and kissing and feeling.

Whatever they were—or weren't—he didn't care. In this moment she was his and he kissed her again, getting onto his elbows, his weight pinning her down to the bed. Her thighs were silk against his hips and he grunted and rutted against her again before giving up and just kissing her, tasting lime and tequila on her tongue, the thirst he'd felt earlier replaced with his thirst for _her_. A thirst she seemed to share as she ran her fingers through his hair and shoved him harder against her.

They were sloppy, chin and mouths wet, but they didn't care, lost in the euphoria of being together again. Of being _allowed_ to want each other again. Of feeling each other, every breath and heartbeat, and not feeling broken at the thought.

There no words, only hot caresses and hotter kisses. He kissed her jaw, down to her neck, finding that spot that was ticklish and feeling her squirm, a giggle escaping her throat and vibrating against his lips. The farther he went the more staggered her breathing became, and he was down between her breasts, the bra the only thing between him and pure bliss.

"Mike," she whimpered, an unspoken plea.

His hands reached, wanting her, _craving_ her, but he stopped.

"I… we can't," he grit out, moving his hands down to the safety of her waist.

"Why not?" she pouted, her pink lips against his ear, her hot breath sending shivers down his spine. His hands gripped harder at her waist, trying to resist the urge that told him to let go and rip her underwear right off of her body. Fuck.

He tried to shake some sense back into his mind, all the while his hands began to trail up again. "I'm drunk. You're drunk," he tried to reason, but his words came out hoarse and tight. Christ, he wasn't even convincing himself. She was all he could see and taste and feel, her existence a sensational overload he was struggling to overcome. Instead of trying to reason with him, she kissed him again, their teeth clacking as she gave him permission to devour her whole.

He groaned into her mouth, his hips moving as he started to give in, feeling the dampness between her legs as he hopelessly ground himself against her. So close, just a thin layer away from the most blissful thing he'd ever experienced in his life, an experience he had craved the past two years. One he'd never been able to recreate.

A hazy memory flashed into his mind, of quiet gasping and tangled hair, and he suddenly flinched back. He'd been drunk then too, most of that recollection blurry and vague, bits and pieces and pure regret. No. He wouldn't do that again.

He was drunk. She was drunk. And that wasn't really right, though she'd made it clear she didn't care. His biggest concern was that there was a chance he would wake up in the morning and not be able to remember any of this. If it was what she really wanted, he was more than willing to make her feel good, to give in and feel her gasp and tremble, to hear her cry out his name. But not yet, not like this when he was fuzzy and clumsy and there was a possibility he would forget. He wanted to have all of her and he wanted to remember every goddamn, scream-filled second.

"Not yet," he pushed himself back up to her lips. "Not right now."

"Mike," she whined. "I want you. Please?"

"No," he was firm but then softened and kissed her temple, pulling back to look in her eyes, whispering his own plea. "Not like this."

He kissed her again, more gently, and then crawled off of her, flopping over onto his side. She rolled over to face him and he cupped her cheek in his hand, stroking her lip. She was visibly disappointed and he felt bad but he just couldn't go through with it. Not right now. Not until she was sure what she wanted and he knew it wasn't just a drunken urge. He couldn't handle being a regret.

"Stay," he begged. "Stay here tonight, please, El."

The irony was lost, of him being the one to ask her to stay, but they were too muddled to really think about it. Instead of being upset she nodded, allowing the compromise. Her arms wrapped around his chest and their legs tangled easily, falling into the familiar form of cuddling her body automatically knew. It had been years but neither had forgotten and his arm snaked around her lower back, his other hand stroking her cheek. Closing her eyes, she pressed her face against his neck, feeling soft kisses on her head and sighing, content and safe, letting the word leave her lips.

"Yes."

* * *

 _ **AN:**_

 _ **I posted earlier than I should have so the next one might take a bit longer but it's coming. It's going to to be even spicier than this chapter so if you're just here for smut (though I hope the story is worth getting invested in), trust me, this story is... not overly ridiculous or anything but I don't think you'll be disappointed. Patience is a virtue but I'm a pushover and I hate waiting for stories too so I'm trying to be fair.**_

 _ **Again, huge note of thanks to eliza dollittle. I'll never stop being grateful for you and how much you motivate and help me. This story wouldn't be what it is without you.**_

 _ **Tell me how you feel. I'll see you all in a week or two.**_

 _ **~Wyn**_


	3. Chapter 3

**_AN:_**

 ** _Hello._**

 ** _I'm a bit later with this chapter than I expected, sorry, but I'm back. Thank you for all the heartwarming reviews and encouragement! I loved you that seemed to appreciate Mike waiting for consent and not diving in while drunk. He's a sweet man. Consent is so important. I'm glad that was something you liked too. Thanks for letting me know. :)_**

 ** _Explicit content ahoy. I'm not so much calling it smut this time because the action is important to the plot and the emotions of the characters. A bit different from the down and dirty stuff I usually write, I hope you all won't mind._**

 ** _Quick note: There's an original character introduced in this chapter named Mr. Lo and he's very much based on a man I knew in real life who was from Taiwan and one of the sweetest, wisest people I've ever known. The character is based on him, accent and all, and isn't meant to be a caricature or misrepresentation. If he offends anyone please let me know but I wanted to say he was based on a very real human being and not just a stereotype. I miss him dearly._**

 ** _That's all for now. I hope you like it._**

* * *

 _"And now I need you to feel the vibe_  
 _I need you to see the point_  
 _I need you to feel alive_  
 _I need you to fill the void"_

There was something tickling Mike's cheek. Shifting back a bit, he reached up to brush it away, wanting to fall back asleep. His hand met soft curls and he blinked an eye open in confusion, wincing as his left temple pounded. Not a hangover but one hell of a dehydration headache, which was suddenly, completely, and totally irrelevant, because there was someone sleeping on him. Someone he would recognize anywhere. Someone with silky curls, pouty lips, and soft skin that was pressed up against him _everywhere._

El.

He almost jolted up, but quickly stilled himself, not wanting to wake her. Her eyes were shut, her mouth open slightly as she breathed, pillowed on his bicep. She'd stayed. What did that mean? His hand twitched towards her, wanting to trace the line of her peaceful face, feeling the urge to kiss her awake, like he had so many times before.

No. Wait. Bad idea.

It was a big enough surprise to him that she had stayed, startling her awake with a kiss would probably be too much. He had been drunk, but everything they'd done was a vivid memory and he couldn't get the sound of her pleas out of his head, begging him to touch her. Telling him she wanted him. Kissing him and grinding herself against him, gasping his name.

Jesus. How had that happened?

The events prior to their drunken makeout came back to him more slowly and he stared down at her as he remembered. They had ended up on his bed, rolling around and pressing against each other and panting, almost giving in. He was glad they hadn't. He was glad they had slept instead because now he was allowed to hold her sleepy form in his arms, feel her soft curves under his hands, warm and reassuring and so _real_.

How many nights had he dreamed of this? Had longed for the reality that was nestled against him now?

His hand slid up her bare side, across her hip bone and then up, feeling the smoothness of her skin, slightly tanned and sprinkled with tiny brown freckles from summers spent under the heavy rays of sun. Her face was slack, a single chocolate curl caught in the corner of her mouth, her lips slightly parted as she breathed. She was still so perfect, each dimple and concave on her body a work of art. God, he had missed this, just getting to feel her against him. She was irresistible, soft and warm, the smell of her floral perfume intoxicating.

He pressed a kiss to her temple, burying his nose in her hair and trying to inhale her very essence. If this was it, he was going to commit it all to memory. He was going to remember every detail.

 _Would_ this be it? A sleepy embrace and a single night spent rolling around on the sheets in their underwear? He wanted to be optimistic and say that her words last night had been the truth, but he just wasn't sure yet. He _wanted_ her. But he wasn't sure if she would feel the same. If she even could. That was the uncertainty that caused him to just lay and feel her heartbeat against his sternum and her breath on his skin. To memorize it… _just_ in case.

There was a sigh, warm on his bare chest, and Mike was pulled out of his musing. She squinted up her still closed eyes and let out a tiny, soft, adorable groan. His heart started pounding. What would she think? A thousand apologies ran through his mind, but they all died on his lips when something low in his stomach began throbbing as she shifted against him, half nerves, half hunger.

The rhythm they'd found last night reawakened as her legs shifted, still tangled with his, her hip brushing against his groin. Her body moved against his, as if seeking him, quickening his already uneven breathing, and sending all his blood south. Shit. Her eyes suddenly flew open just as her hand began to stroke against his chest. She pushed herself back from him, eyebrows jumping up her forehead as she went through the same process of surprise that he had.

He said nothing. He could barely breathe, watching as she took him in. Her gaze searched his face first, and he swallowed thickly as her eyes travelled down the rest of his body. The honeyed amber pools had the same effect on him as if it had been her hands doing the searching, heat flushing his skin. She gave nothing away, her eyes guarded and almost nervous.

Her hand reached out to touch him, tentative and small, stroking up across his chest to the column of his throat. Mike let out a shaky breath, as her fingers traced the shape of his jawline, feeling the light stubble just starting to poke through, before going up to his cheekbone, and resting there gently. She didn't quite meet his stare, her gaze fixed lower, and then her thumb was stroking across his cheek, over the bridge of his nose.

Her eyes finally flicked up to meet his and there wasn't any anger in her brown eyes. Just… desire. Need. Want. The same emotions that had stared at him last night through a drunken haze. She was so close. Laying in his arms, touching his face, her lips just inches away. His pulse was racing and he let his eyes wander, to the swell of her breasts, tucked into the nude bra that he noticed had a lace overlay and little bow in the middle. He licked his lips subconsciously as his eyes went down even further, to the slight indented line beneath her belly button that trailed down, disappearing under those cute as fuck panties. After moment he let his gaze dart back up to her face. She was still watching him, but now her eyes were downright _desperate_.

A bolt of needy hunger shot straight down to his dick as she licked her lips and he felt himself tremble, trying to hold it back. It was unfair that she was still so beautiful. Fuck, he could eat her alive, taste every inch of her flesh, fill his face and mouth with her and give and give and give until she was screaming. God, he wanted to. He wanted to devour her whole. He wanted to have her, every part of her, just like he used to.

Her fingers moved back from his cheek, to the edges of his hair, pushing into the thick locks and then tugging him slightly towards her. It was a signal. An answer to the unspoken question hanging thickly in the air. _A plea._

Mike couldn't hold back anymore.

He grabbed her, pulling her as close as he could, and crashed his lips into hers. She whimpered into his mouth, her fingers tangling all the way into his hair and tugging. Then he was on top of her, rolling her onto her back, gathering her beneath him as he pressed down on her. A groan left his lips as he felt her again, felt her body underneath his own, a divine pleasure nothing else had ever matched. His hand slid down her side, then to her back, reaching behind to grab her round ass and shove her hips up against him.

"Mike," she gasped, her head falling back.

His body shuddered and he was hard in an instant, the sound of his name from her lips enough to light every nerve in his body on fire. They weren't drunk and she wanted him, her hands roaming over him and pulling him closer, unspoken desire pouring off of her in waves as she arched her back. Their stomachs and chests dragged against each other as he rolled his hips, grinding his erection against her thigh and groaning.

 _Please, please, please_ , her eyes begged, her mouth not yet ready to give him the words he craved. He wanted to hear her, wanted those sweet sounds, and he let his hands slowly slide back up her waist. His fingers teased the underside of her bra, dipping underneath it just barely, watching her gasp, eyes needy. One of her hands grabbed his, shoving it back, towards the clasp, feeling him playing with the edge of it. He didn't look away, his eyes locked with her pleading stare. She finally gave in.

"Mike." It was barely a breath. "Please."

The bra was unsnapped in two second and he tossed it over his shoulder without care, using an arm to haul her further up the bed, earning himself another lovely gasp. He moved down to her chest, keeping their eyes locked as he moved. She was biting her lip raw, brows drawn together. He finally looked away from her alluring expression as she arched up to him, her breasts like an offering. He swallowed thickly.

For a second he just took her in, bare for him, the pink rosebuds that tipped each soft mound, his breath ragged in his throat. She was so stunningly beautiful, completely breathtaking, and he reveled in the moment as she allowed him to see her again. Christ, how was this real? He stared, longer than necessary maybe, still trying to memorize her. A low whine left her throat and she squirmed, reaching up to cover herself as if self-conscious. His hands caught her and he shook his head.

"You're beautiful, El. More beautiful than I remember."

Her eyes widened, her brow pinching together, but she didn't fight him, seeming to tremble beneath him. He realized his blunder, bringing up the past, and kissed her lips quickly, to distract or apologize, he wasn't sure, but she relaxed beneath him and the tips of her perfect breasts barely brushed against the flat expanse of his chest. He bit back a groan and looked back down again, at the breathtaking view.

Then his mouth was on her, his tongue leaving hot, wet trails across her chest, his breath a cool wash that made goosebumps shiver over her skin, the nipple in his mouth pebbling tightly as he sucked. Her breath caught in her throat and her hips pushed up against his stomach, desperate for friction, trying to find purchase. He laved a wet path from one breast to the other, feeling her whimper as her hands snagged clumps of his hair and tugged.

He finally came up for air, looking down at her again, her perfect breasts shining wetly in the dim light of the room. Perfection. Heaven.

"Mike." Her voice brought his gaze back up to her face, her brow pinched with need. Her words stunted and breathy, repeating the same words as before, but with more intensity. " _Please._ "

He felt a surge of pride and desire at what he had made her become in mere minutes. A wet mess. Begging for him. He already knew what she wanted.

"Please what?" he intoned. Needing to hear her say it out loud.

"T-Touch me," she whispered.

His hand slid down her stomach, to the edge of her palm tree covered panties that clung to her already wet center. He knew what she wanted. What she _needed_. But he needed something too.

"Tell me you missed me, El." His voice was firm but then shook at the end, unable to fully hide the emotion. His eyes filled with desperation. "Tell me you _need_ me."

She didn't hesitate.

"I missed you, Mike. Please. Touch me. _Please_ ," she whimpered. "I need you."

He groaned, falling onto her, pressing his face against her neck and breathing in the smell of floral soap and the faint scent of cigarette smoke that had always clung to her from her father's habit. He kissed her throat and collarbones as she squirmed beneath him, trying to lose himself in the taste and smell of her. He could feel her, pressed so close, her voice whispering that she missed him and needed him, the muscles in his stomach clenching tightly as he tried to keep from losing it right there. It was almost too much, all of it, all at once and after so long. But her hand tugged his lower, his fingers brushing her underwear, and he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, steadying himself.

" _Mike_." The whispered gasp brought him back.

The panties were shoved down her hips, and then his fingers found her wet heat, spreading her open and plunging into her. A drawn out hiss left her mouth and her thighs clenched against him, her hips wiggling as if asking for more. He pressed his thumb against her clit and he curled his finger inside of her, earning a gasp. Christ, how was she already so _wet_?

Her needy whimpers filled his ears and he gave her more, easing his finger out and then pushing in a second. Then a third. He had his knee between her legs, the weight of his waist keeping her pinned down, but she tried to roll her hips against him anyways, wanting more, _needing_ more. Her moans filled the air like a choir of angels, his own nirvana, her hands gripping his shoulders as he pumped his fingers in and out of her, curling them into her slick clenching channel.

"Oh, oh," she gasped, eyes wide as she stared up at him, her pretty face twisted into an expression of her pure pleasure. "Mike, Mike, I miss you. _Please_."

"Fuck, El," he whispered back. "Say it again."

"I miss you."

The ache he'd felt, the one that had haunted his sleep and memories, the one he'd been unable to stifle or fully rid himself melted away as she confessed. Maybe she was just saying it because he told her to, but the way her brows peaked together, the haze of want that filled her eyes told him otherwise. She _had_ missed him. She still wanted him. Needed him.

Their coupling had always been based in need, whether the need for just a good, hard fucking, a sweet reminding of their love, or the rebonding of their broken souls. It was something that had always just been _theirs_ , a bridge to each other that no one else could find. The two years of severance had been a heavy burden, but as they rebuilt the lost connection through touch and taste and feel, Mike felt relief and ecstatic joy.

It was better than any drug, the euphoria that sparked every single nerve in his body to life, and the fire that had been pooling low in his stomach roared up and blazed through him. He pulled out of her, the slick fingers gripping her panties and ripping them all the way down her legs. Her own eagerness had her fingers twisting in the elastic of his boxers, pushing them down. His cock sprang out, aching for her, and she let the tips of her fingers whisper over it, sticky with his want. Then she grasped it firmly, his pulse throbbing against her palm as she pumped her hand once, his hips jutting forward automatically.

He had been starved of her for too long. He was going to grab whatever she gave him with greedy hands and hold on as tightly as possible. As long as she would let him.

"El, fuck, I need you," he choked out, the feel of her hands on his throbbing member making it hard to speak. "Shit, fuck, I need you _now_."

"Yes," she gasped, eyes frenzied as she nodded shakily. "I want you, Mike, please, I—I want to feel you inside me."

He groaned out loud at her words and then he crawled all the way over her, spreading her thighs and settling between them, her skin like satin. Pushing up, he scooted himself closer, their hip bones pressing against each other as he looked down, guiding himself closer to her aching center. His tip brushed against her and she whined loudly, her hands gripping his biceps, her breath shuddering out of her. She was so ready.

Suddenly he froze as common sense nagged at him through the haze of lust. They were missing something.

"Wait," he gasped, "I don't have a—"

"I'm still on the pill," she interrupted quickly, grabbing his hips to keep him close. "Don't worry. I haven't been with anyone else."

Mike felt his heart leap. It had been two years. _Two years._ And she hadn't let anyone else touch her, hadn't let anyone in, hadn't been like this with anyone else. The bit of needy primal fire growled happily in his chest. She was still his, at least in this way. No one else would have her. And damn it all if he didn't remind her of that again right now.

A sudden pang of anxiety twisted his gut and he hesitated. He'd been so ready, he still was ready, but… shit, was this even fair?

"El—"

She didn't let him speak, grabbing his face and pulling him to her lips, moving them against his and banishing the last of his hesitation, her fingers stroking through his hair, pushing the dark locks out of his eyes. Her hips pushed against his, a signal, and he kissed her back before pushing himself back up on his elbow, his hand moving down again to line his aching erection up with her soaking wet folds.

She was so wound up that he could feel every inch of himself pushing into her. He grunted, eyes slamming shut, feeling her hot breath gasp against his throat. Holy shit. Holy fuck. How was she so tight? So wet and perfect and warm. A low groan fell from his lips and he let his cheek rest on her, her soft curls already slicking to her damp forehead. He thrusted forward, greedily burying himself all the way inside of her hot cunt, unable to resist. She cried out, right in his ear, and he immediately tensed, guilt breaking through his euphoria, his eyes flashing open.

"Shit, I'm sorry, El, did I hurt you? Are you okay? I c-can't—" he started. He began to pull out of her, but stopped when he saw her face.

Her eyes were wide but she didn't seem to be in pain, in fact, it seemed to be quite the opposite. She stroked up the side of his calf with her foot, wrapping her legs around his hips, jolting him into her even deeper, the flash of heat so great his fingers dug into her hipbone, hard enough to bruise. It was too much but not enough and he slid back, encouraged, their skin rasping as he began to move, in and out, long easy strokes.

"El. _El_." He uttered her name like a prayer, pressing his sweat-slicked cheek to the curve her throat. "You're perfect and I missed you, _fuck_ , I missed you so much. Every fucking day."

"M-Mike."

He attacked her skin with his teeth and tongue, nibbling a red line beneath her collarbone, needing to leave some kind of mark to remind himself later that it had been real. Her whimpers and cries were better than any melody, his answering gasps and groans the harmony. He let himself go faster, hearing her voice pitching up higher. She met him, stroke for stroke, her hips lifting to try and get him to go deeper, clearly craving more.

Giving in, he let the rhythm speed up, her body dragging up and down the bed as he began to pound into her, trying to fill her need. Anything for her. He would burn the world to ash if it was what she wanted in that moment.

"Harder, Mike, make me _feel_ you." The sharp tips of her fingernails ghosted over his back. "Please, please, Mike, I need it, please!"

"Fuck!"

He let the primal urge turn his mind into a red-filled haze, slamming into her like she asked, the satisfying sound of their bodies wetly colliding filling the air. The headboard hit the wall, a noise complaint in the making, her body jolting across the sheets, her legs falling open as she cried out, egging him on. He needed to fill her, dominate her, claim her and make sure she knew she was his with every thrust. A snarl left his throat and she threw her head back, accepting all of it, the thing she had been craving.

It was a rekindling, the fire both had thought dead suddenly roaring back to life, sweeping over them like wildfire. She begged and pleaded, thighs clenching at his hips, taking him in over and over and over and over…

Mike felt something low in him twitch and he slowed abruptly, unwilling to let himself give in before she had reached her peak. There was an indignant huff from her but he shook his head apologetically, trying to go deeper to make up for the slower pace. _Not yet._ It had been years and he was needy and desperate and fucking ready to pound her into oblivion, but he could be kept from her for a millennia and still do everything in his power to make her feel pleasure. It was all for her. Every second. And he wasn't about to let it end yet.

He rolled his hips into her lazily, letting her _feel_ him, all of him, the way he stretched and pushed against every inch of her. His gaze drifted down, watching, almost in disbelief, as his hard length disappeared into her again and again, barely able to handle just how hot it was. Her hands were in his hair and she pulled his lips to her mouth, kissing him hard enough to bruise. His bottom lip was caught between her teeth and she tugged it, making him wince, and then bit down so hard he growled, feeling it begin to swell.

When she let go a smirk played at her lips, smugness glinting in her eyes, a challenge. She knew exactly what she was doing to him. He could never back down from a challenge and he growled again, pressing his face to the side of her head, nipping her earlobe and making her gasp. Two could play at that game.

"I missed this so much," he breathed hotly into the shell of her ear. "I missed the feel of you wrapped around my dick. Your pretty face all pink. The way you say my name."

She moaned, unashamedly, her fingers digging into his biceps as he began to move faster again, knowing she was getting closer. There was no real obvious cue, but he just _knew_ , years and years of experience guiding him. Her hand slid down, between their stomachs, slick with sweat and arousal, but he caught her by the wrist before she could reach all the way, throwing her arm back up and then pinning her hand down.

"No, El," he growled as he pulled back and shook his head but didn't slow his pace. "Just my dick. You're going to cum with just my dick." His voice lowered. "I know you can."

A high whine left her throat in protest, but he kept her wrist pinned to the mattress, watching her flushed face twist into a defiant frown. It would be cruel if he wasn't sure that she could. She had so many times before, on her hands and knees in the back of his car, bouncing on top of him under her covers, and with her back pressed up against the tile wall of a shower. The memories he'd tried to push away for so long were alive again, writhing beneath him as he mercilessly thrusted into her, his hips a blur as he rode out his need for her, let her feel it come alive with each lusty stroke.

"Mike," she gasped, eyes widening. A smug smile tugged at his mouth.

He already knew, releasing his grip on her wrists to reach down and catch the back of her knees on his forearms, forcing her hips upward in one fluid motion as he slammed his hands down next to her shoulders.

" _Mike_!" It was a scream, piercing his ear drums. "Fuck! Mike!"

She threw her head back, the angle exactly what she needed, her mouth gaping open as she gasped and panted. Mike smirked, feeling pleased, not just at hearing her scream for him, but for knowing he was the only one who had seen her this way. Spread out beneath, completely bare as she came undone. Eyes hazy and rolling back, lips swollen and open. Her body jolted as he slammed himself into her, as far as he could go, her fingers digging into the flesh of his freckled shoulders.

"That's it, El. Take it," he demanded with a grunt. "Take all of it."

"Mike! Ah! Ah!" She cried out at each punishing thrust. " _Mike_!"

He wasn't trying to be so aggressive, but he couldn't help it, his need to make all of her his, to dominate, taking over again as he felt her get closer. It was going to happen, she was mere heartbeats away from what she was begging for, and he groaned, still staring down at her, unwilling to look away for a single second as her mind and body began to unwind. There was no way he was going to miss it.

"C'mon, babe." The word fell from his lips without thinking. "C'mon!"

A wail erupted from her throat and then her thighs tried to slam together, his arms keeping them spread wide as her walls fluttered. Her breath gasped out of her and then her eyes squeezed shut as her nails ripped into his shoulders, causing him to wince. The pain made it more intense and he watched as she trembled and gasped, feeling a gush over his cock as he plunged into her. It pushed him to his edge and he felt himself losing it, stars dancing around her head as his vision started to blur.

"Give it to me, Mike," she gasped out, her hazy form urging him on. "I want you to."

Her words unlocked a vague memory, one he'd squashed into the furthest corner of his mind, of the taste of vodka and a room lit by red neon through a window. A flash of guilt twisted his gut but he ignored it and focused back on the beautiful woman beneath him, begging him to finish. In her. _With_ her.

"Fuck!" He couldn't.

He was too far gone to turn back but he snarled and did the only thing that made sense, abruptly pulling out of her. A groan left his lips as he exploded onto her stomach, splattering her skin as she gasped in surprise. The headrush hit and he barely managed to roll off of her before he collapsed, panting and groaning, onto his back next to her.

"Holy shit," he croaked, his mind still a mushy mess.

It took him a moment to catch his breath and then he looked over at her, unsure of what would be the proper thing to do now. He instinctively reached for her, wanting to tuck her into him and kiss her sweaty forehead and try and let her know he was grateful for what had just happened. His hands stopped as he remembered things were different, but the bigger part of him didn't care and he rolled onto his side, ready to pull her close.

El sat up before he could grab her, staring down at the smooth concave of her stomach where several pearly strings were splattered across her belly button. She delicately touched one, eyebrows raising almost imperceptibly, like she was curious about the turn of events that lead to an ending different from the one she knew. Mike flushed, sitting up too and looking around for his discarded clothing. He grabbed his shirt off the floor and reached over to wipe away the mess, the guilt flooding in.

"I'm so sorry," he stammered, cleaning her off as thoroughly as possible. "I didn't meant to—"

"Why did you pull out?" She seemed amused.

"Um—" He winced, picking half of the truth. "I didn't know if I it was okay to—" He frowned, trying to phrase it differently. "I didn't want to make you uncomfortable. I wasn't sure if you would want me to or not."

"I never minded before."

Her words were unexpectedly heavy. It was the first time she'd acknowledged their past out loud and he flushed again. Why the hell was everything so embarrassing? This wasn't some new experience. If anything he should feel _more_ comfortable… it was El and she was naked and beautiful and laying next to him. Telling him she didn't mind if he came inside of her. Fuck. How was she so perfect?

He licked his lips and sat back, scratching at the back of his neck, unsure of how to explain his decision without making it awkward.

"Well, I mean, it's been a while," he shrugged. "Things change."

Her eyes became guarded and she looked away, towards the nightstand, crossing her arms as if trying to cover herself. Mike felt his heart sink. Shit, why had he said _that_?

"I-I just meant, like, it's been two years. You're different. You cut your hair," he blurted, then frowned at how far his foot was shoved into his mouth. "Uh, good different. I like it. I just didn't expect you to change it."

"I went on a date. And then I cut my hair," she mumbled almost incoherently, her fingers tugging at the shorter curls hanging around her shoulders. Then her eye caught the time on the alarm clock and she gasped loudly. "Shit!" She jumped up, gathering her clothes and trying to put them back on. "Shit, shit, shit, shit…"

He was still a bit stuck on the fact that she had gone on a date. How did that correlate with a haircut? And _who_ had she gone on a date with? When? Was she dating someone? No, of course not, otherwise they wouldn't have just done what they'd done. At her panicked yelp, however, he jumped up off the bed too, quickly sliding his on briefs and jeans and watching her redress with obvious concern.

"What's wrong?" He swallowed nervously, hoping it wasn't sudden regret causing her to flee. She'd seemed pretty into it but he knew it was possible to want something and then regret it immediately. "You okay?"

"Max is picking me up at ten for brunch with the bridesmaids. It's nine thirty. I can't go looking like this!" She struggled to hook her bra back together, hands panicky and fumbling. "And I left my purse at the bar with my room key and—"

"Hey." He went around the bed to her side, cautiously putting an arm around her shoulder, and silencing her anxious babbling with a hug. She didn't move away and he relaxed a bit as her forehead pressed against his bare chest. His fingers caught one of her curls, rubbing the silken strands subconsciously as he tried to calm her irrational panic. "Why don't you hop in the shower here, in my room, and I'll go to the front office and see if they have a spare key so you can get in your room," he suggested easily. "Don't stress."

"Oh." Her voice was muffled against his chest and her arms tentatively wrapped around his lower ribs. He felt her sigh and relax. "Okay. Yeah. Thanks. Um. That's really nice of you."

There was a breath as they stood there, wrapped in each other's arms, something fragile filling the air. Mike was afraid to move, not wanting to snap the crystalline tendrils holding them together, unsure of what would happen if he let her go. His arms tightened around her. He had let her go once, his biggest regret. And it had lead them back to this, fucking each other's brains out in a shitty motel a week before their friends' wedding. But what did it mean? What were they now?

Were they allowed to be anything at all?

El shifted and the spell was broken. She didn't move away though, shifting so her chin rested on his sternum as their eyes met, gnawing her lip. Uncertainty was evident behind her honey brown eyes. The morning light caught the bit of green that dappled the edges, one of the little details that had faded from his mind in the past two years. He resisted the urge to cup her face in his hands and re-memorize every curve and line, wanting to kiss each one. She shifted again and he stifled a sigh, finally releasing her from his grip, watching as she ducked her head and took a step away.

"I need to hurry." Her voice was soft and apologetic. "Do you mind getting the key?"

"Yeah," he agreed quickly. "Yeah. Of course, El. There's towels and stuff in the…" Of course there were towels in the bathroom. He tried to shake the stupid out of his brain. "I mean, you know what to do."

Her lips twitched up at his bumbling and he felt his heart leap as the bit of laughter teased into her eyes. God, he had missed her smile. He gestured awkwardly towards the bathroom again, unsure of what to say and finding his mouth was suddenly dry anyways. Damn it. She nodded graciously, taking pity, and headed toward the shower.

Mike remained in place, trying to figure out whether or not that conversation had been… good? So much for getting clarity. He'd just been a stupid, awkward idiot, unable to find something to say. To be fair the sex had kind of spoken for itself… he just wished he knew what it meant for them now.

The sound of running water pulled him out of his thoughts. The key. He told her he would get her a key to her room. Swallowing down his questions, he pushed his muddled thoughts away and pulled a plain white tee out of his suitcase on the floor, throwing it on and then pulling his jeans a little higher up his hips.

He reached the door and hesitated. The consequences of leaving her again caused him to pause. What would happen once he stepped out this door? Would she pretend it never happened? She had said a lot of things the night before, but hadn't repeated any of them this morning. He glanced into the bathroom, directly to his right. El had yet to shut the door, and was currently half dressed and grabbing a towel from a shelf, while she let the shower warm up, steam already beginning to cover the sliver of mirror he could see her reflected in. His hunger for her hit him full force all over again. And it was _ravenous_.

Abandoning his exit before he could talk himself out of it, he was next to her in three long strides, eyes dark and hooded, hand reaching. She turned towards him as he entered the bathroom, automatically using the towel in her hands to try and cover her half-naked body.

"Mike?" Confusion covered her pretty face but she relaxed slightly at she realized it was just him again. "What—"

He didn't let her finish. Grabbing her arm, he pulled her to him, bringing her mouth to his, kissing her hard and deep, letting his want flow into her. He wanted to consume her, to remind her of what had just taken place, to not let her forget whose name she'd just screamed. She clung to him, gasping her surprise, and Mike took the opportunity to plunge his tongue into her mouth, trying to taste every inch of her. He groaned as she matched him, her surprise quickly replaced with need as she buried her hands into his hair and pulled him down harder against her.

Yes. This is what he wanted. He was out of his mind, losing himself to her all over again, needing more and more every second. His hand grabbed one of her thighs and hitched it over his hip, bringing their centers closer and he felt her whine into his mouth.

Wait. Shit. They couldn't do this. She needed to leave soon. Max was coming for her. He needed to get her a key. Fuck.

He pulled away, and they both panted, their lungs rasping for air. Their bodies aching for each other. El's eyes were glassy and dazed, and she looked ever so slightly off balance. He felt himself smirking, enjoying that he had as much of an effect on her as she did on him. The drunken confession hadn't been a total lie, and the sex obviously wasn't a one time thing.

She did still want him. At least a little bit.

"Um, we should talk later," he suggested with an easy nod. "Can we do that?"

El seemed only able to nod, still reeling from his kiss.

Mike needed to leave. Because if he stayed any longer, El would definitely be late. He placed a kiss to her temple and left her once again.

The door shut behind him rather abruptly and he tugged his pants up again, too lazy to grab a belt, feeling oddly warm. With another glance towards the bathroom, he headed for the door of the room and pulled it open.

A warm breeze greeted him, the sun shining merrily, completely ignoring his anxious, glaring eyes. It was a beautiful day and Mike took a deep breath, stepping out and feeling the still-cool concrete under his bare feet. He glanced around the small compound, which was mostly quiet, the only sound the cars passing by and the distant crash of the waves. The office was across the parking lot and he dodged pieces of broken glass and cigarette butts and a used condom, grimacing. Maybe shoes would have been a good idea.

The small office was empty, the air conditioner in the window blowing chilly air over him as he glanced around the nautical themed space. Several stuffed fish hung on one wall and a wooden carving of a sailor stood in the corner. It felt a little… east coast-y and he wondered if that's why it was so cheap. Beachside motel themed for Nantucket instead of San Jose. Who had made that mistake?

He noticed a bell on the counter and reluctantly stepped forward, smacking it with a heavy hand, the cheerful "ding!" filling the room. A door in the back popped open and a tiny, Asian man came out, wearing glasses and a pleasant smile.

"Hello! I can help you?" He spoke with a thick accent Mike couldn't quiet place. Korean? Taiwanese? Not Japanese. Whatever, unimportant. He refocused on the task at hand.

"Um, hi. I was wondering if you had a spare key for room sixteen?"

"Your room?"

"No, uh, my friend's. She left her key at a bar last night."

"Why she not come and get last night?" The small man raised an eyebrow, his eyes shrewd. "I only give key to room owner."

"She…" Mike sighed, not really in the mood to try and explain the question that was currently his and El's relationship. "I let her stay in my room last night because we were both really drunk. But she needs to get in it this morning and she's taking a shower at the moment so she can't come and get it herself. Can you please help me out?"

The man suddenly brightened, like he was remembering something. "Room sixteen, you said?"

"Yeah."

He disappeared abruptly, down behind the counter, and Mike leaned over in surprise, unsure of what was happening. After a second the small man popped back up holding a scuffed, brown leather purse. Mike recognized it immediately. His mother had bought it for El for Christmas during his second year at college. It had been her first purse and she'd taken it _everywhere_ , forgetting it half the time and making him drive back to the theater or restaurant to retrieve it. Some things didn't change.

"That's her purse," he blurted. "Did someone return it?"

"Nice man. With curly hair. He say it was his friend's, but he not know where she is. She was with you?"

Mike's face heated up. "Um, yeah. She was safe. But, uh… don't tell people that, please?"

The man's eyes glinted, taking in the younger man's sweaty, disheveled appearance and the dots of red seeping through the white shirt across the shoulders. Mike wished he knew his name so he could try and beg a little more personally. He didn't need their friends butting into whatever this was between them.

After a moment the motel-keeper nodded, pushing the bag across the counter towards Mike and smiling conspiratorially. Was it really that obvious? Mike pushed his sweaty hair out of his eyes and attempted to look thankful.

"Thanks. I'll try not to let her lose it again."

"Good friend."

With that the little man turned around and vanished into the back room again, leaving Mike shivering under the blasting air conditioner. After standing there another few seconds to process what happened, he let out a sigh and turned, clutching the purse under his arm to try and keep it out of sight. He kept his head down as he carefully made his way back to his room, glancing around and hating that he felt the need to hide it. Hide the fact that they were with each other. That she was in his room showering after having some of the most mind blowing sex they'd ever had.

Sex with her had always been amazing and he was pleased knowing he could still make her feel the way he had before. That she still wanted to. Her words last night came back to him.

" _I never stopped wanting you, Mike. I didn't want to leave you. I just couldn't go with you."_

Those three sentences had completely turned his world upside down. All this time he'd been convinced that she had been happy without him. That she'd told him to go to get him out of her life. Why else had she turned down that scholarship? Why else had she literally pushed him away, using her powers to freeze him out?

He felt his stomach twist as the confidence that pushed him to walk into the bathroom and kiss her faltered a bit. Those were answers he wanted—no, that he needed. That he god damn deserved. Okay, so, they still wanted each other… but what now? Were they going to tell their friends at some point? Was he going to be able to hold her hand or wrap an arm around her like he used to? Was this just… sex?

He realized he was in front of his room, staring at the gold plated numbers on the door. There were so many questions and she was the only who could give him answers. It had been enough to know she still wanted him, to be able to give her that and hear her whisper that she had missed him. Goosebumps shivered down his neck. It had been perfect.

His hand reached for the knob and then rested there as the guilt he'd felt earlier stabbed into him again. Maybe he should tell her. Be honest. It wasn't that big of a deal, really. But she deserved to know if they were going to get intimate again. Because they had an entire week until he had to go back to New York and if she still wanted him, he was going to give her the best week of her goddamn life.

Fuck goodbyes. That wasn't relevant right now. Right now he wanted to go in there and grab her and kiss her and tell her that he still loved her. Tell her everything, every truth and moment and thought he'd experienced since they'd been apart. It was time to come clean and start over and see what could happen.

It was time to get his soulmate back.

Taking a deep breath, he turned the knob and swung the door open quickly, charging in, totally ready to spill his heart out to her. He stopped, letting the door fall shut behind him, closing his mouth and feeling disappointed. She was still in the bathroom with the door shut. Of course.

For a second he considered knocking on it and busting in. No. He'd already done that once, twice would be too much. Not until he knew for sure that what they had was… solid still. Or again. Had it ever really gone away?

The uncertainty was a fucking nightmare and he plopped onto the bed instead of barging in on her, deciding it wasn't worth the risk. His hands fiddled with the strap on her purse and he dropped it into his lap, staring down at it for a moment before unzipping it. A key on a comically large seahorse keychain popped out and he scrabbled to keep anything else from falling out of the bag. He couldn't keep from glancing inside, wondering what clues it would hold to the person she was now.

A pack of cinnamon altoids, two tampons, her wallet, a couple of crumpled receipts, a pack of tissues, a lip balm and two different lipsticks. And her keys. He squinted, pulling them out, letting the cool metal rest in his palm as he stared at the keychain that had caught his eye.

It matched the one he had hidden in his desk drawer back home. Her prom dress and his tux, her smile as he kissed her cheek, their arms wrapped around each other. She had kept it too, in a much more obvious place, and he blinked at the photo dangling next to her house key.

The water turned off in the bathroom and he jumped, quickly shoving everything back into her purse and zipping it up. He stood, trying to act casual, like he hadn't been snooping, and after a few more seconds the door opened and she stepped out wearing the rumpled orange dress and a towel on her head. She seemed blank, rubbing the edge of the towel between her fingers listlessly, but then she spotted her purse in his hands and lit up like the Fourth of July.

His heart danced at her smile, even though it was aimed more at the bag and less at him, relief clear in her eyes.

"Hey, uh, feel better?"

"Yes!" She was walking towards him, arms reaching. "You found my purse?"

"Dustin left it for you at the office. The owner let me have it." He let her take it from his hands, trying not to feel morose at the fact that she wasn't reaching for _him_. "Um, the key is in there, I checked."

"Perfect."

She bent over and unwrapped the towel, rubbing her hair with it before tossing it onto the TV stand. The smell of his Old Spice body wash rolled off of her and he felt a strange ping of happiness. She smelled like him.

"Um, I'm going to go. I have ten minutes… I need makeup," she sighed, fiddling with the hem on her skirt. "I'll… see you later?"

"Oh, yeah. Sounds good." He tried to hide his disappointment. Of course she couldn't hang around with him all day. They had things to do. At least she wanted to see him later. That was a start.

There was another quiet moment, where she stood there for a second, and then she buzzed toward him, quick and nervous like a hummingbird, standing on her toes to press a kiss to his cheek. Her hand rested on his chest, warmth erupting at the points of contact, and then she was at the door, smiling softly at him over her shoulder. The door opened and closed and she was gone, leaving him standing there in a daze, staring after her.

* * *

 ** _AN:_**

 ** _I'm sure this wasn't what you were expecting but I hope you're pleased. I've started to realize this story isn't as purely angst as I had thought but there's still a ways to go and I haven't written the hardest part yet. It's coming along more slowly than I had hoped. Sorry. I hope you can be patient._**

 ** _The perspective shifts back and forth between the two of them so next chapter is El, we'll see how she feels about what happened here... I think she's in a different place than Mike is._**

 ** _See you in a few weeks._**

 ** _~Wyn_**


	4. Chapter 4

**_AN:_**

 ** _Hello all. I'm sorry for leaving so for so long but I've had some life things and then I fell into a rut with this story I've been struggling to climb out of. I'm afraid if I catch up to what I have I'll get anxiety and chicken out of finishing so I've put off posting but I'm feeling motivated again and I'm going to try and do better. Thank you for hanging in there with me._**

 ** _Some of you asked me to let elizadollittle know you missed her too and if you haven't checked it out yet, her story, The Things That Happen, updated about a week ago! It's excellent, hopefully she and I both will be back with more soon._**

 ** _This is a long chapter. There's so much to organize thought-wise for both Mike and El. I hope you won't mind._**

* * *

 _"Are we wrong? Are we right?_

 _We jump first and then decide_

 _It's hard to explain it_

 _Heavy hearts weigh us down"_

El stared down at her plate of eggs and french toast, feeling a bead of sweat drip down the back of her t-shirt. They were sitting outside of a small cafe, under an umbrella to block out the beating sun, but it wasn't the heat that was making her sweat.

"—parents have been _so nice_ , like I know he's getting the shit end when it comes to in-laws but, honestly, I love his parents," Max chattered. "His whole family has helped so much. Apparently his great-uncle is totally loaded. He's paying for all the alcohol this whole week. That's why I keep letting myself get so drunk. I mean… it's _free_."

"That's so awesome," El responded automatically.

She was sure that at any second her friend would pause and look at her from across the table and immediately be able to tell. That she had screwed her ex-boyfriend and had totally ruined everything. Okay, maybe not _ruined_ , but complicated things for sure. It had been hard enough trying to stay away from him when she thought he was a selfish jerk, who had left her behind without even bothering to admit he didn't love her anymore.

But now… now she knew he did still care about her, and wanted her, had missed her… fuck. How was she supposed to stay away? What was she going to do _now_? All her plans for how she would make it through this week had just been fucked. Literally. And really thoroughly.

During the months leading up to the trip, she had convinced herself that she would just ignore him. Be civil and try to pretend like his presence didn't bother her. It had been a whole conservation between her and Max on the phone.

" _He's Lucas's best man. And you're my maid of honor. Which means you_ ' _re going to have_ _to walk together," Max_ _apologized._ " _I know you're not… I mean, if you_ _can't do it_ _, I won't be upset, El."_

" _It's fine._ _Of course, I still want to be your maid of honor_ _." She had brushed it off._

" _No, I mean… he's going to be,_ _like,_ _right there. I don't want you to be uncomfortable."_

" _I won't be. We haven't talked in forever. It's not like… I mean, I don't care." A lie. "It's just walking down an aisle. I can handle it."_

All bullshit. She'd done her best to harden her heart to the thought of him, trying to turn him into something she could ignore. However, last night had proved that he was impossible to ignore, and this morning had proved that she didn't _want_ to. She didn't want to ignore him at all. In fact, she was already entertaining the idea of wanting to sleep next to him and lay in his arms and then roll over and let him fuck her brains out. Every day. For the rest of her life.

"El, are you listening?"

Max's voice snapped her back from her worries, looking up from her barely touched plate, eyes wide and apologetic. Shit.

"Yeah, sorry, I'm just a little…" She trailed off, unable to think of a word to describe her current frenzied state of mind. Nothing seemed shitty enough.

"Distracted?" Max supplied, arching an auburn brow. "I can tell." She took a sip of her iced coffee, watching her friend for a moment before allowing herself to smirk. "Does it have something to do with you running off last night? And Mike going after you? And then the two of you disappearing and worrying the shit out of the rest of us?"

El had known this was coming. There was no way Max wasn't going to bring it up. At least she'd been kind enough to give her some time to collect herself, and not immediately asked about it when El had hopped into the car earlier. More impressive was that the redhead had shown even greater restraint as she feigned innocence while they ordered their food, talking about the wedding instead. But now her curiosity was clearly too strong too ignore it any longer and El stifled a groan as she looked back down at her eggs.

She had known it was coming but she still didn't want to think about it out loud.

"I mean, a little I guess," she conceded.

"You better spill. Right now."

"Max…" It was a warning, but El sighed. "We… talked. I was drunk. He was drunk. He walked me back to the motel and we both went to sleep." She felt a surge of pride. All of that was one hundred percent truth.

Max didn't bother to hide her disappointment. "That's it? What did you guys talk about?"

"Um, well, I kind of yelled at him for following me. And he said he wasn't going to let me run around all alone while I was drunk—"

"Always has to be the hero," Max snorted.

"And then I ran back to the motel and slept. I was drunk and tired. So was he."

El tried to keep her face from giving away the half-truth she'd just uttered. From the look on Max's face, she didn't seem completely convinced. "How did you get back into your room if you left your purse at the bar?" she asked pointedly.

El felt the sweat trickling down her back again, stabbing a piece of french toast onto her fork and frowning. It would have to be an outright lie. She couldn't admit what had actually happened between she and Mike without Max losing her shit, and El needed to sort it out on her own before she had someone breathing down her neck about it. No, her friends couldn't know. It was complicated enough as it was.

But she _hated_ lying.

"I got a spare key from the office," El shrugged, frowning down at her eggs which she was currently massacring with her fork, remembering Mike's suggestion from earlier that morning. "It's not that exciting. Sorry."

"Why do you smell like a dude then?"

Fuck. More lying.

She stabbed another piece of egg, dragging it through some syrup. "I left my soap at home… I borrowed some body wash."

"From who?" Max's eyes glinted and El frowned, still refusing to make eye contact.

"From…" Her fork skittered across the plate and she picked a name that wasn't Mike. "Dustin. Can we talk about something else? It's not that big of a deal. I told you it was fine. We're fine. I'm fine. Stop asking," she snapped.

The redhead looked a bit surprised at her tone but shrugged, backing off. Remorse immediately flooded in and El sighed heavily, noticing how her friend was watching with narrowed eyes, clearly still suspicious. The eggs on El's plate were a something akin to slasher film finale and she took a deep breath. Snapping wasn't fair.

"Sorry, I'm just tired. I don't want you to always be worrying about me. I can handle myself, okay? Just let me… breathe. You have a wedding to worry about. Don't let me be a distraction."

"El, you're not a distraction. I just want to make sure you're okay and usually when people disappear with their ex and they're both drunk it doesn't end well." A calculated pause. "I'm glad that wasn't the case this time."

"Me too."

It was quiet as El shoved as much of her now destroyed food into her mouth as possible in an attempt to avoid being questioned further. The redhead stared for a moment longer but then exhaled and picked up her own fork. Some things weren't worth fighting about.

"Alright. Fine. I won't ask again but if something goes wrong or he makes you feel uncomfortable…"

"He won't." El rolled her eyes at that. "It's Mike Wheeler we're talking about, Max. If he thought he was making me uncomfortable he would… do something dumb. Like try to be invisible or something impossible. It would just make things worse."

Max snorted. "You're right. Wheeler and that hero complex. You'd think a couple years in a big city would have beat it out of him. I mean, literally. Lucas told me how the tall idiot tried to stop a mugging a few months ago and ended up with two black eyes."

" _What_?" El gasped, her lungs filling with a righteous fury. "Someone… hurt him?"

"Yeah…" Max looked too gleeful. " _And_ they took his wallet. If he'd been hurt worse I wouldn't laugh but, god, it's just _such_ a Wheeler thing to do. Rush in trying to save the day and get his ass handed to him. I guess he's always going to have to be the… what was he? In D&D?"

"Paladin," El supplied quickly.

"Right. The whole righteous white knight thing doesn't always translate over so well into real life," she shrugged. "I hope he doesn't do anything stupid like that again… he could seriously get hurt."

Max was still laughing but her brow was furrowed just slightly, giving away her underlying concern.

"I guess," El huffed moodily. She didn't find any of it funny. She had to take a deep breath, unclenching her first and looking down at the indentation the fork had made across her palm. Who had hurt him? If she ever found out she would tear them in fucking half. Sure, she'd been angry and hurt and mad at him and had maybe wished he'd stub his toe or have a really bad day… but getting _mugged_? And _beaten_? Why did he always have to put himself where the bullies found him?

"Okay, well anyways, Lace and Bethany should be here soon. I'm excited for you to meet them! They had roller derby last night and then practice this morning, or they would have joined us earlier," Max said breezily. "I keep thinking about joining their team but…"

"Roller… derby?"

Occasionally El would still come across a word she didn't know. The same tone of quiet curiosity filled her voice as she tilted her head.

"Yeah, it's like a giant fistfight but on roller skates. Cool nicknames. Lots of bruises." Max's eyes were shining but El wrinkled her nose. Violence wasn't her thing unless required. "It sounds super fun but I just haven't had the time to commit. But that's how I met them, anyways, they came in to the shop for new helmets and pads and then Lace was at the park on her longboard, and the next thing I knew we were slamming shots of whiskey at McKinney's."

"Sounds… great."

Max babbled on and El felt that strange sinking in her stomach again. The one she'd felt when Mike had told her about his job in New York. The one that had wracked her body in waves when Dustin, the last one left in Hawkins besides her, had bounced into the library and picked her up in a bear hug and loudly announced he was moving to Chicago. The same feeling she'd felt after hanging up the phone, trying to process the fact that Max and Lucas were going to get married. The feeling that always followed the same sudden… thing. The thing that El hated.

Change.

It kept taking people from her, molding them into unrecognizable shapes that she no longer knew. Ones who seemed much too grown up to want to still be friends with her.

It was stupid. They were still her friends. Fighting interdimensional monsters and saving the world together kind of bonded you for life. Nothing could change what they'd been through, the suffering and heartache and joy and triumph. But when it came down to it, life kept moving and taking them from her, and she _hated_ it.

She missed the hot summers spent biking through the streets as heat waves danced around them, racing to the city pool. Making blanket forts in the Byers's living room and watching Star Wars until Joyce made them all put on pajamas and get into their sleeping bags. Birthday cakes made by Mike's mom with glowing candles and pink frosting that ended up smeared on smiling cheeks and lips. Rolling in piles of leaves, sledding down snowy banks, dancing under the blossom filled trees until it was summer again and they could spend their spare quarters beating high scores and buying popcorn to share.

They had all been happy and together then.

Sure, she was almost twenty-four. She was an adult, she paid rent and made coffee for her parents in the morning and cooked dinner and did her own laundry. It's not like she was still prancing around Hawkins in her pink dress trying to pretend she was twelve again. But she still missed those days of simplicity and happiness… the feeling that had vanished along with her friends. Safety. Contentment. Peace.

The happiest part of her childhood had been so short. Why did it have to end?

Or at the very least, why did everyone have to leave?

"Maxine!"

A loud voice yelled right behind El and she jumped, her fork flying from her hand and onto the ground. Max scowled immediately, always having hated being referred to by her full name, but she was fighting a smile as she held up her middle finger towards someone.

"Whatever, _Alice_ ," she shot back.

"Bitch, I will murder you!"

El whirled around just in time for someone wearing a shredded Guns N' Roses shirt and red plaid to fill up her vision. It was like getting hit by the screech of an amp and she barely had time to blink as two women sat down on either side of the table. Max noticed her panic.

"El, this is Bethany," she quickly said, gesturing to the woman on her right. Bethany's body language and friendly smirk reminded El of Max immediately, but she had sun-kissed blonde waves that looked like the type of hair a mermaid would have, and tan skin that was nothing like Max's auburn and pale freckled complexion. She was wearing a light blue rash-guard that matched her eyes and a pair of tan cargo shorts, looking like she was ready to jump on a surfboard at any second and swim out to sea.

"Hi," El waved, managing to smile back. Bethany seemed friendly. That was a relief.

"And this is Lace. Short for Alice, but don't call her that or she'll pound your face in. Right, Lace?" Max was grinning.

"Yeah, sure. Nice to meet you," Lace snorted, sticking her hand out for an actual handshake.

El didn't know where to look. Lace was big, not necessarily large or obese, but everything about her was just… big. She was tall and curvy, a shapely hourglass that filled out her shredded band tee with an open red plaid shirt over it, an equally shredded pair of acid wash jeans on her hips. Her hair was bleached blonde, a contrast to Bethany's natural golden waves, with dark roots and eyebrows, her eyes made darker with messy black eyeliner and dark brown lipstick. She'd already made herself comfortable, resting her combat boot-covered feet up on the edge of the table, looking confident and cool and relaxed.

She was so… grunge-y punk rock bad ass. El's shoulders pulled into her body and she found herself leaning away. She hadn't seen anyone look so badass since she'd met Axel back in Chicago.

"Oh, um, yes. Same to you," she blundered, holding out her hand.

Lace nearly shook her out of her chair and when she let go El shrunk back, feeling suddenly very small. Whatever conversation she and Max had been having was officially over as Lace began ranting about their practice that morning, even pausing to pull her shirt up and show a huge red welt on her hip.

"—but if she pulls that move out on the Calamity Psycho Hags at next week's meet, I'll forgive her," she ended her story with a casual shrug. "Anyways, where's the waiter? I'm fucking starving. Oh, is that french toast?" Her eyes zeroed in on El's half-eaten plate.

"Um… yeah."

"Are you going to finish it?"

"I guess… not?" El felt oddly pressured to hand over her food. She wasn't that hungry anyways.

"Cool!" Lace smiled and pulled the plate towards her, picking up a piece of toast with her bare hands and shoving it into her mouth. "Ew, why did you put syrup on your eggs?"

"Dude, don't even give her shit, you eat way weirder things than syrup on breakfast food," Bethany cut in, rolling her eyes but clearly used to her friend's behavior. "She's being nice and letting you have it. Don't bitch about it."

"Yeah, yeah."

El smiled gratefully at Bethany, and Max seemed to nod in agreement, frowning at Lace's grabby hands. The bride-to-be exhaled, clearly giving up on that argument before it even happened and scooted her own plate away from the hungry bridesmaid. Time to get to business.

"Okay, so, now that we have the maid of honor—" Max paused as Lace muttered something under her breath that El thought sounded kind of like " _Finally"_. Max pretended she didn't notice. "Now that we're all here, we need to do some stuff so my wedding doesn't totally suck. I don't care about a lot of things, but I want it go well because Lucas's parents and family are here and they deserve it." She sniffed, lifting her chin. "And they're really nice and I don't want them to have to deal with anything too crazy."

"What would I possibly do that was crazy?" Lace shot back, grinning widely.

"Oh, I don't know, maybe getting smashed at the bar and then hitting on every single person in the immediate vicinity?" Max scowled, like she was daring her friend to fuck up her wedding. Lace put up her hands in surrender and Max continued with a roll of her eyes. "Okay, so, here's the game plan for today. After this I want us to all go back to my place and try on dresses so if something is fucked up we can fix it now and not later. Then you have to help me make the bouquets, I bought some fake flowers and shit, and I'm sure El would appreciate a little help with the bachelorette party. Right?"

El nodded and Lace snorted.

"I _suppose_ you'll need to know the good bars and stuff around here. I've got you covered," she nodded cooly. It seemed like a nice offer but the condescending gleam in her eyes made it feel more like a jab and El frowned, looking down at her hands in her lap.

Of course she needed help. But it's not like she didn't know anything. She'd been to Nancy's bachelorette party and that had been fun, and full of penis-shaped things, and alcohol, and laughter. Truth be told she'd been planning on going through the phone book and making a list of bars to try out. Getting help would be nice but not if it was full of… condescension.

"If you want to go to the mall and buy some supplies, I can take you," Bethany added with conspiratorial grin. "There's one of those sex shops over there. We could get some fun stuff."

"Yes, thank you. That would be great."

After that Lace dominated the conversation, grumbling about the summer heat and how her manager had been giving her shit for not conforming to the dress code. El sat quietly, feeling small and insecure and unsure of how she could compete. This woman seemed to know Max so well—they shared inside jokes and looks and laughter—and she began to wonder why she had been chosen as maid of honor when _clearly_ she knew so little about her friend.

The car ride to Max and Lucas's apartment was similar, and El found herself staring out the window, watching the unfamiliar landscape go by. Dotted with palm trees and dancing heat waves, so different from the green and brown Midwestern landscape she'd grown to love. Part of her wondered… what did New York City look like?

She stayed quiet until they were in the cozy apartment and Max opened her closet, unveiling the bridesmaid dresses.

"Ta da!" The redhead grinned broadly, gesturing like a magician. "All made to the measurements you gave me, so they can't… not fit."

El would have squealed happily but somehow she had the feeling she would come across annoying to the other girls, instead grinning happily as she reached for her dress. It was a beautiful deep red, the color that had always suited Max's personality so well. Each dress was a slightly different style. Bethany's was a modern square neckline with thin straps and a straight silhouette that didn't overpower her petite frame while Lace had more of a body-hugging cut, with off the shoulder sleeves, her ample bust keeping the fitted cups up. Both looked amazing lowkey sexy, and El quickly slid into her own dress.

The strapless dress was a little more retro, with a sweetheart neckline to accentuate her chest, the high cut waist showing off how tiny she was, and finishing with the hemline hitting her right above the knee. They were all short dresses, Max's white one was short too, to keep from dragging in the sand on the beach.

When Max suddenly appeared in her wedding dress, El couldn't remember to care and finally let herself scream in excitement.

"Max!" Tears welled up in her eyes. "Oh my god!"

"Quit it! Don't cry, I'll cry!" Max protested, grinning as she ran to hug her maid of honor.

Her dress was understated, a white skater dress with thick straps and a v-neck. It had a bit of lace around the waist and the neckline, making her seem bridal but avoiding the fluff and puff and gallons of embroidery that were currently all the rage. A tiny netted veil covered half of her face and El knew with a little mascara and powder that her friend was going to be jaw-dropping.

"You look good, Max," Lace butted in, throwing her arm around the bride's shoulders. "You sure you want to marry him instead of me? I'm still down if you want to elope last minute. No conditions apply."

The bigger woman threw her head back and laughed, but El frowned, noticing the uncomfortable look on Max's face. Bethany was the saving grace, pulling El towards the other two and turning it into a group hug.

"Max is getting married," she sang, her voice like waves on a beach. "Max is getting married! Max is getting married!"

They started bouncing, and laughing, and soon collapsed, happy and giddy and out of breath. In her mirth El slid closer to the bride, tucking her hand into Max's and squeezing. The old friends shared a secret smile and for a moment El forgot all of her anxieties about the trip, the stress of her actions that morning, and her uncertainty of what would happen next. For those next few hours while they put together bouquets of fake flowers, she let herself smile and laugh, feeling her friend's happiness glow inside of her.

For the most part.

* * *

The apartment smelled _amazing_. She didn't know when they had taken up cooking, but Max and Lucas were in the kitchen, boiling the spaghetti and cooking meatballs like it was second nature. El smiled, content and happy to be surrounded by the familiar, as she placed the folded napkins around their small dinner table, her feet dancing to the rhythm of the music from the other room. It had been a good day.

"El, could you get the door? I bet it's the guys," called Max.

Surprised that she hadn't heard the knock or a bell, El answered back a quick, "Sure!" Swiftly finishing her task, then scurrying to the small entry area.

It was pretty decent-sized apartment, the top floor of a small house with two bedrooms, a dining area, and tub-shower. The neighbor's who lived in the basement apartment were old and deaf and didn't mind stomping feet.

El _really_ liked it, the homey, cozy feeling, and had spent the entire day there, catching up with Max after the other bridesmaids had left. She was happy to help tidy up their apartment, even running out to the store to pick up last minute groceries. It had been nice, her mind distracted from her worries.

There was another knock.

"Coming," she called, hurrying faster down the hall.

Opening the door El felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up as the familiar scent of the Old Spice body wash, that tellingly clung to her own skin, and the sight of a baby blue cotton button up, greeted her. Her pulse quickened as her eyes drifted higher, and suddenly all the worries she'd been ignoring that afternoon crashed over her as she stared up at Mike.

He looked equally caught off guard, his defined brows arching slightly at the sight of her. The stubble that had rubbed against her skin that morning was gone, his face freshly shaved, and he was holding a bottle of moscato. Her favorite kind of wine.

His lips gaped open, just slightly, like he was going to say something and she felt a shiver run through her as she remembered what those lips had done to her mere hours ago. He'd left an ache between her legs and now at the mere sight of him it was burning again, the sudden urge to pull him against her screaming in her mind.

"Mike, would you _move_?" Dustin snapped, shoving his taller friend from behind.

Mike staggered forward and El put her arms out automatically, bracing him, her small hands pressing against his solid chest. She had noticed _that_ too this morning, how his biceps and pecs had become more firm beneath the press of her nails, how his chest had broadened a bit, the last bit of boyish softness vanishing and leaving behind a strong jawline and well muscled neck that made her dizzy. She wanted to touch every new line and dimple, relearn every part of him.

The momentum of Dustin's shove was more than they had both expected, and El found herself catching the weight of him as he continued to stumble forward, their bodies pressing together. Her stomach clenched at the sensation of the chilled glass of the wine bottle caught between them. His hand caught her waist to steady himself, the touch sending bolts of heat all through her.

"El." It was a low gasp she knew no one else had heard and suddenly she was _throbbing_. He'd said her name the same way that morning, while his hands pinned her wrists to the cool sheets and he'd moved inside of her, filling her body over and over.

Oh fuck.

Common sense finally flooded in and she pulled back as he took his hand off of her and steadied himself against the wall. She snatched the wine from him without a word, avoiding his eyes as her face flamed, and then she turned and _fled_ , running to the safety of the kitchen. Why did she end up running away from him so often lately?

"Um, El?" It was Lucas, standing in front of the stove and watching her pant as she leaned against the fridge. "You okay?"

"Wine," she blurted, holding up the bottle. "I… I need some. Dustin and Mike are here."

Max had been staring at her but quickly disappeared to greet their guests and then Lucas was holding a corkscrew and popping the cork out of the bottle as El watched, trying to calm herself. He filled a glass silently and handed it to her, watching with an impressed expression as she downed the entire thing in one chug. She set it down and wiped her mouth, knowing there was still a blush on her cheeks.

"Let me guess… it's because of Mike?" asked Lucas calmly. He was being gracious and not looking at her as he strained the pasta in the sink.

"No!" Her face grew hotter and then she groaned, staring down at her empty glass. "Okay… yes. I… am I being stupid?" She had to think of the right word and tried again. "I mean, overreacting?"

"Nah. But you just chugged a glass of wine after opening the door, so I figured…" He seemed careful, like he was afraid to say the wrong thing. "Are you going to be okay? I know you guys, um, fought last night? Or… talked?"

"Yeah, we were drunk. It's… fine, we're not going to ruin this week." She bit her lip, knowing she needed to give some sort of explanation for her overreaction. "I was surprised just now. I'll be okay," she conceded. "I just… it's still weird. I don't know."

Now that was the truth. El had no idea what to feel. The anger she'd been nursing for years was gone, soothed away by the feel of Mike's gentle kisses on her forehead as he held her and comforted her worries that morning. There was no doubt in her mind that he cared about her. That he still wanted her. But was it a one time thing or… could they be something more?

Did she even want that?

The burning between her thighs reminded her that she definitely wanted _him_. It was impossible to ignore. Every nerve in her body screamed for him, to let him back in and to feel happy and safe, like he used to make her feel.

But he had left her, had chosen bigger dreams than what she wanted. That was the problem. He was no longer _safe_ , and every warning bell she'd installed in her head over the years was telling her it was a terrible idea to run back to him. It was dangerous and painful and stupid.

Because at the end of the week, he had to leave again.

Reaching for the wine, she poured herself another glass and sighed, suddenly feeling very tired. Why had she told him they would talk later? That had been a bad idea. There was nothing to talk about, or nothing she _wanted_ to talk about. It would end with him giving her the same answer he had before and she couldn't do it a second time. Her heart wouldn't be able to handle it again.

The morning had been… incredible. Amazing. Mind-blowing. It had been everything she'd been wanting. She hadn't lied when she told him she missed him. Everything she'd said had been the truth, even if it had been an answer to a demand. There had been too many nights when she'd longed for him to appear at the door, just for a few hours, to crawl over her in her bed like he used to, to claim her again and pant against her bare flesh as they gasped together, to feel him, every inch of him, all over her while she cried out his name.

Her wish had come true. In every way. So why was everything suddenly so confusing?

"El, seriously, you're about to drink the whole bottle. If you're too uncomfortable and want to go, I'll drive you back," Lucas offered, walking over and taking the wine away from her. "It's really okay if you don't want to deal with it. I know you guys…" He paused, trying to be delicate. "I know it was really hard on you. If you don't want to be here with him right now, it's okay. Max and I won't be mad."

She sighed heavily, repeating what she'd said before. "Lucas… it's fine. He surprised me just now. We're fine. I _promise_."

At that word he backed off, knowing she was serious. He set the wine in the fridge and then went back to stirring the marinara, staying quiet and letting her try to collect herself in peace. She appreciated it.

God, what was she going to _do_? Her body had reacted the same way it had that morning, first when they'd woken up, and then again in the bathroom, giving in without a second thought. Only this time it had been worse because they were around people who couldn't know. How would she explain it to them? Any of it? She didn't even know what was happening between she and Mike, how could she clarify it for all of their friends?

No. No one could know. That would just make it worse.

With a sigh she tried to strengthen her resolve, putting her shoulders back and taking a step towards the dining room where she could hear voices. She could do this. It was just Mike. And all of their friends. This would be fun, just like old times.

 _I can do this. I can totally do this._

There was another knock at the door and she almost sagged in relief, barking out an eager, "I'll get it!" and bolting for the door, grateful for any excuse to put off the inevitable a little longer. It was Will and she pulled him straight into a hug as the door shut behind him.

"Oh, wow, hey, El."

"Hi," she mumbled, her face squished against his shoulder. "I'm glad you're here."

He laughed amusedly, "Me too. I didn't think you'd be so excited to see me. I mean, I saw you last night at the bar."

"For like a minute! I missed you." She gave him a squeeze. "Joyce and Dad miss you too."

"I just visited last month."

"Too long."

Max interrupted them, giving Will a side hug and telling them the food was on the table, ushering them towards the tiny dining room. El felt the wine hit her bladder, and excused herself to head to the bathroom. She wanted to splash some cold water on her face anyways, to try and get the incessant heat boiling beneath her skin to calm the fuck down.

The door was closed and she frowned, wondering if they kept their door shut all the time or if it was in use. She reached for the knob, just as the door opened, and once again she found herself staring up into Mike's dark brown eyes.

He had that same look of surprise he'd had earlier and she inhaled sharply. She was struck by a sudden thought. Had he told anyone? She had assumed he hadn't… but that was a dangerous assumption. He could have told everyone by now, maybe he was proud or something, wanting to brag to his old friends about what they'd done.

"El—"

He was cut off as she shoved him back into the small bathroom, shutting the door behind her and frowning up at him. This was going to count as "talking later," she decided. She didn't want to try and figure what any of it meant, but she needed to make it clear that _nobody could know_.

"Did you tell them?" She asked sharply. "About… anything?"

He blinked in confusion but then caught on, shaking his head. "No. Of course not. I didn't… I mean," he flushed, that lovely shade of red creeping up his neck, "not that I'm like, regretting it or anything, I just didn't think… they needed to know."

She nodded in satisfaction, feeling relieved. Good. The wine she'd had made everything a little bit softer and she calmed, deciding that any crisis had been avoided and she didn't need to worry.

"Okay. Good." Her hand reached up to tug a curl, her usual thinking habit. "Can we… keep it that way? Not telling anyone? At all?"

"Sure," he shrugged. "If that's what you want."

"Yes."

They were quiet then, and he eyed her intently, almost studying her. The blush remained on his cheeks and El tried to decipher what he was thinking. Was he embarrassed? It was just the two of them. Maybe he felt guilty? Or just nervous? Psh, like he had any reason to be nervous. He'd had her begging for him this morning, why would a chat in a bathroom be making him nervous?

She stared up at him, noticing how his eyes were heavy with something. They trailed down, from her face to her silhouette, sliding up and down her body, the heat she'd drowned in wine earlier earlier suddenly blazing through her again.

Was he… turned on?

He licked his lips and her mind blanked as she realized that he totally was. She knew that look. He'd looked at her that way so many times before, from the driver's side of his car or over his textbooks as they studied. She felt surprised, looking down at her outfit. It wasn't that cute or sexy, a denim overall dress with a yellow t-shirt underneath, one of the few outfits she'd brought with a high enough neckline to cover the bruised skin on her collarbone he'd left with his teeth that morning. There was no way she was making him horny.

"I won't tell." His voice was low and she felt herself shiver as his eyes slowly dragged up to her face. "I promise."

 _He's totally horny_.

She felt her own body heat again as a surprising surge of pride welled within her. So she still had the ability to get him hard just by looking at him. Things between them hadn't changed as much as she thought.

She raised an intrigued eyebrow, tilting her head, noticing how the muscles in neck grew taught as she set a hand on her hip. She let her hand drift down to the edge of her skirt, playing with the denim hem and lifting it slightly. He swallowed, eyes fixed on the extra inch of newly exposed skin, his hands clenching into fists.

Oh. He was totally gone.

"Mike." It was a command and he finally looked up from the skin of her thigh, pupils wide and hungry. "Are you okay?"

"I'm f-fine," he swallowed, a sheen of his sweat on his brow.

"You sure?" she asked, innocently, taking a not-so-innocent step closer to him.

"Y-Yes."

He looked so tempting standing before her, tense, all lines and angles, every muscle flexing as if trying to hold himself back. El felt herself slipping too, craving that raw need, tripping over attraction and the knowledge of how much she still affected him. His dark gaze moved to her lips, waiting for some sort of go ahead. And god, she wanted it too. She wanted him to do what he had this morning, to recreate those perfect moments where she'd been lost in him. She wanted to forget again, for a little while, that they had to be anything but this.

"Kiss me," she whispered.

His eyes sparked and then she felt herself being slammed against the door, his hands under her thighs as he lifted her and shoved himself between her legs. Their mouths crashed together like a hurricane and she moaned into him as he pressed every inch of himself against her. The bulge in the front of his jeans rubbed against her core and she groaned. Fuck, he felt amazing.

Her tongue slid into his mouth, teasing him and then he was the one groaning. His grip on her began to loosen as he lost himself in the feel of her. El felt herself slipping downward against the door, and with a frustrated growl, he hitched her back up and turned them, slamming her against the wall above the toilet, so her butt rested on the tank, keeping her up. His knee balanced him on the lid and then he was rolling his hips against her, his face against her neck as he panted in her ear, needy and desperate as he tried to satisfy his obvious lust.

Each thrust made the heat grow hotter and she nipped his ear and then cheekbone, moving down to the smooth jawline she found irresistible. She couldn't think about anything that wasn't him and how hot he was and how much she wanted to let him eat her alive.

"I wanna be inside you," he whispered into her ear. "I need you so bad, El."

"Ohhh," she whined, mind blanking at his words, "please, Mike."

Her hands slid down to his belt, the buckle jangling as she undid it, and he was rucking her skirt up around her hips, fingers finding her soaked panties, his touch electric, his tongue on her neck and—

There was a sudden burst of laughter from out in the apartment and the fog in El's mind cleared.

"Wait!"

He froze, pulling back, eyes huge and concerned.

"We can't, Mike," she panted, her body still reeling from his onslaught. "They'll hear. They'll know. Th-There's not enough time." Her body was screaming at her to shut up and keep going but she shook her head, eyes apologetic. "We can't right now."

He groaned, his head falling onto her shoulder, their bodies still flush against each other. They were both aching, wanting, needing, _craving_. But she was right. If they gave in they could blow the secret they'd just established _was_ a secret.

"Later," she murmured soothingly, her hands moving up to tangle into his hair. "Come to my room later. We can…" She smirked knowingly, eyes teasing. "Talk."

The corner of his mouth tugged upward into a smirk and he eased back, still frustrated but now more willing to give up on ripping her clothes off and fucking her brains out right then and there against the tank of the toilet. She pulled him down and kissed him again, hard, letting him feel her matching frustration, before scooting forward and pushing him off.

She tugged at her overall skirt and readjusted her shirt, hoping to put herself back into a state that didn't look thoroughly ravished, not noticing the way he was gazing at her with fond eyes. When she glanced back up at him he was still staring and she felt herself flush, quickly looking away.

Her eyes fell to the toilet tank that he'd just had her on, panting and aching for him. She may be able to turn him on just by looking at him, but he could reduce her to a begging mess in a matter of seconds. It was an admittedly odd balance but somehow she didn't mind.

"That was… kind of crazy" she noted quietly, needing to fill the charged silence as they both finished putting themselves back together. Her hand went up to her cheek as if she could brush away her blush.

"Yeah," agreed Mike with a nod. His voice a bit raspier than usual. "S-Sorry about that. I'll try not to..." he trailed off, searching for the right words.

"Try not to what? Fuck me in the bathroom while our friends have dinner next door?" offered El, a slight grin twisting her lips, amusement glittering in her eyes. Why was this suddenly so… funny?

At El's blunt words, Mike startled, as if suddenly realizing just how out of control he had let things get. He stepped closer, tense, like he wanted to reach out but wasn't if that would make it hard for them again. His brow was pinched.

"Fuck, El, I'm so sorry."

"It's okay," she reassured him, letting a soft laugh flutter out. She was as much of a willing participant as he was. It's not like he'd thrown her over his shoulder and run off with her like a viking ravager. Though ravaged did seem to be the right word...

"It's not," he refuted. "I totally respect you but I've just been—"

"—Mike. It's okay, seriously," she interrupted, cutting off his speech. He still looked shamefaced and she stepped forward, emboldened by what had just taken place. Her hands went up to his chest and she stood on her tiptoes, humming into his ear, "Besides, if they weren't waiting out there, I would have let you."

"El," he groaned, hands moving to clutch at her waist, pulling her closer, his body concaving as if he wanted to pull her into him. Needy.

"Hey, no. We _really_ can't," she smirked softly again as she pulled away, out of reach of his grabbing hands.

"Why do you hate me?" he groaned moodily, a small grin on his lips, but he sighed and let her go. "Pulling up your skirt and telling me to kiss you and then pushing me away." It was almost a whine and she rolled her eyes, hopping onto the counter of the sink and crossing her legs casually, trying to give him room to get to the door. His stare rested on the tanned skin of her calves, following them up to her skirt and she cleared her throat, grabbing his attention back to her raised eyebrow.

"Um, I still need to pee so…" She gestured at the toilet, biting her lip.

"Oh. Oh right. Yeah, sure," he nodded overenthusiastically, stepping backwards to the door. "I'll see you out there. Uh, but not… I mean, I still won't say anything."

She blinked gratefully. "Great. See you."

He slid out of the door, closing it firmly and she dropped onto the fuzzy toilet lid cover, dropping her face into hands and letting out a groan. If that didn't prove she was screwed, she didn't know what did. The space between her legs was absolutely _throbbing_ and she knew that if he knocked on her door tonight there was no way she would refuse to let him in.

Shit. What if he did actually want to talk? What was she going to say?

Instead of thinking about it, she stubbornly pushed the worry away, actually using the bathroom and then washing her hands. She splashed chilly water onto her eyes and cheeks, letting the liquid drip down her face and off her chin. Her reflection stared at her from the mirror over the sink and she stared at herself unhappily, reaching up to tug the collar of her t-shirt further up, hiding the irritated line of pinched skin under her collarbone. Ugh.

With a final discontent sigh, she left the bathroom, venturing back out to the dining room where everyone was already eating, plates full of salad. They all looked up and teased her for taking so long and she managed to smile and roll her eyes, taking the last empty seat, between Max and Will. It was a small table, meant for four instead of six, two extra chairs wedged in.

El looked at the happy scene in front of her. Her mind flashing back to late nights spent crammed around a similarly small table in the basement of Mike's house. Playing D&D and laughing, fingers orange with Cheeto dust and her lore book stained with Mr. Pibb stains from all the times she'd spilled. Mike's hand on her thigh under the table, slowly inching higher.

"Earth to El!" Dustin's voice was loud enough to shock her from her memory. "Hey, quit spacing and help me out. Temple of Doom wasn't as bad as it could have been, right?"

El wrinkled her nose. "Ew, no, Dustin, what are you talking about? It was terrible."

Everyone burst out laughing as Dustin huffed, Lucas reaching across his fiancee to punch El's shoulder happily. El smiled, accidentally catching gazes with Mike, who was rather inconveniently seated directly across from her at the small table. Clearly it had been made a point to not make them sit next to each other. This arrangement was almost worse. Her stomach dropped and the low throbbing returned, while she watched him laugh, his dark eyes shining with pride.

She kept knocking elbows with Will as they ate and she was grateful that it was just the six of them, and that Bethany and Lace hadn't been invited. Max had said they wanted a dinner with just the old Party, but El was starting to think part of it had to do with the lack of space. Which was fine with her. She didn't really think she could have put up with Lace for much longer, and she definitely didn't want her anywhere near Mike.

Her face flushed with anger as she remembered their earlier conversation.

" _So." They were sitting in the living room on the couch, surrounded by fake flowers, hot glue guns, and scissors. "Tell me about the guy I'm walking with. Is he hot?"_

 _Max pulled a face. "Lace, no. Don't sleep with any of my childhood friends, I'm begging you."_

" _I didn't say I wanted to sleep with him! I just asked if he was hot!"_

" _You only ask that question if you want to bang them," Bethany intoned, not_ _bothering to_ _look up from the stem of baby's breath she was fluffing._

" _Just tell me, okay?" Lace rolled her eyes._

" _Okay, fine. You're walking with Dustin. He's…" Max had to stop and think. "_ _He's great, bu_ _t he can drive me nuts sometimes_ — _he always has to argue everything_ — _but I mean, I guess he's kind of cute. Curly hair, bit of a lisp. He's kind of… fluffy, not like chubby or anything, but he's never really liked sports. Or working out. But he loves food."_

" _He has a nice smile," El put in, half-smiling at the thought of her goofy friend. "And he tells funny jokes. He gives good hugs."_

" _Jeez, you gonna marry him?" Lace snarked, rolling her eyes as if El daring to speak was something to be annoyed with._

" _Shut up, Lace." Max and Bethany said at the same time._

 _They'd picked up on the weirdly hostile vibe between the maid of honor and the maid of honor-wannabe. It was hard to ignore and El felt small, every comment she made shut down almost immediately by the intimidating woman._

" _Okay, sure, whatever. What about Bethany's boy? An artist?"_

" _Will," El cut in. No way was she letting Lace get in his face with her attitude. "He's my stepbrother. He's gay."_

" _Ugh, that's fair…"_

 _It was silent as all four women cut the flowers and assembled the bouquets. Fake baby's breath with fake greenery and fake yellow lilies. Pretty. Pretty fake. A sharp wire from a stem poked into El's thumb and she winced as it tore her skin. She sucked in a breath and shoved the injured finger into her mouth, wincing at the coppery taste._

" _What about the best man? Didn't you say he was really tall?" Lace's eyes were glowing and she was smirking. "You know what they say about tall guys."_

 _El felt hot, white fire blaze up her back and neck. Oh fuck no. That was not going to happen. Her thumb was still in her mouth and before she could say anything she would regret, Max spoke up._

" _Nope. Don't even go there," she shook her head adamantly, her red hair flying, eyes fixed on the bigger bridesmaid. "That's girl code. He's off limits."_

" _Awww, come on. Did you date him?"_

" _No,_ _but_ _El did. For a really long time… so he's_ _off-limits_ _. Don't even think about it."_

" _El would be fine with it, right?" Lace's intense, smokey gaze landed on El and she visibly stiffened. "Just one night. I could even beat him up a little if you want me to, most guys I've been with seem to like it. I'm a rough rider."_

 _El felt her entire face catch fire, her mouth gaping as she tried to words to express just how much she was against that idea. The image was too vivid, her own rough encounter making it easy to picture exactly what Lace would be like with Mike._

 _The outrage broke and she lifted her lip into a snarl. "If you even_ —"

" _Lace!" Max's voice cut through the air. "I'm serious. I'll shit on your entire life if you fuck with Mike. Pick someone else, Lucas has some second cousins I don't really know if you're that desperate. Don't be that bitch."_

 _There was a stony silence and El watched as Lace stared at Max, assessing how serious she was before shrugging and throwing a sharp glance at El. It felt like a slap in the face. Like it was such a terrible thing to not be a bitch and sleep with someone's ex. El disliked her more and more by the minute._

" _Sure. Whatever. I'll take the curly one then, I just want to get laid this weekend," she seemed to brush the confrontation off and smiled almost lewdly. "All the love in the air and bullshit… gotta get that scratch itched somehow."_

" _Gross."_

 _After that Bethany had brought up the reception and Max had eagerly latched onto the new topic, explaining that they'd rented a tent to be set up a little further up the beach right after the wedding. The ceremony was at sunset, so it really would be a huge party in a lit up tent all night long._

 _All El could think about was Lace getting her black painted fingernails into Mike, leaning on him and laughing. It made her see red and she had to take a deep breath, staying silent as she fumed at the thought. By all means, he could take Lace up if she offered. There was no real reason to refuse. It's not like Mike had made some promise to her, to not sleep with anyone else. But the mere thought of it made her want to scream and stomp and throw up._

 _El silently swore that it wasn't going to happen._

 _He wasn't hers anymore, she knew that, but he was more hers than anyone else's._

"El, seriously? Is space really _that_ interesting?"

A hand was being waved in front of her face and she jolted, looking up from her plate of spaghetti with an expression of surprise, eyes wide. Everyone was looking at her and she swallowed, throat dry.

"What? Sorry." She shrunk a bit, feeling awkward. "I… was just thinking."

Everyone's glasses had been refilled a few times with the bottles of wine that scattered the table, hers included, and it was getting harder to concentrate. Something brushed her foot, and she moved it back.

"We were talking about that time we went swimming in the quarry?" Will kindly filled her in, before turning back to the group. Brow furrowed in thought, he asked, "When was that—"

"Summer before junior year," she said quickly, knowing the exact day in question.

It was a hard memory to forget. Technically the quarry was too dangerous for swimming, but they'd snuck down anyways. Except for El. The deep water sent shivers of fear all over her, memories of being submerged in the dark too much to handle.

Mike had sat with her in the gravely shallows for most of the day, splashing with her playfully and making her feel better about not wanting to go in. She remembered watching them all play Chicken, secretly giving Max a psychic shove off of Lucas's shoulders so Will and Mike would be triumphant.

It had been a good day made better when Mike had walked her back to the cabin. Finding it abandoned they'd used the opportunity to shower together. They were still virgins, just turned sixteen, and it had been the first time they'd really seen each other naked, all the way. She could still remember the look of awe in Mike's eyes as he traced the shape of her under the spray of water, hands reverent and gentle as he leaned down to kiss her. They'd made out for a bit and then cuddled on the couch, watching soap operas until Hopper came home. It was a day she had somewhat forgotten, suddenly alive in her mind as she remembered feeling so safe and happy in her boyfriend's arms.

She shoved another huge forkful of spaghetti into her mouth, frowning irritatedly. Was she allowed to let that memory make her happy? She'd avoided thinking about memories like that one, intimate and private, for so long so she could move on from him, but now… Fuck. Everything was too confusing.

Looking up, she noticed Mike watching her slyly, smirking amusedly as she struggled to chew her massive bite of food, cheeks puffed like a chipmunk. She tried to glower at him, and it must have been a comical sight, because his eyes widened and then he snorted, inhaling a piece of spaghetti and immediately choking. Everyone stopped talking, watching with wide eyes as he began to violently cough, hacking and retching, eyes watering. Dustin began to pound on his back and Mike tried to shove him away, still coughing.

It took a few minutes before he could speak, wheezing lightly, his face red. El was staring in shock, like everyone else, and then he shrugged, wiping his watering eyes.

"S-Sorry. I choked."

"I don't think anyone noticed," Lucas said dryly, quickly focusing on something else. "Anyways, I still think summer after senior year was best. It's too bad that road trip fell through though, Cedar Point would have been so fun."

El couldn't help but let her gaze flit over to Mike while she tried to pay attention to the conversation taking place, feeling concerned as he took a long drink of water, still seeming flustered. He looked up from his glass of water and this time when their eyes met she felt that fiery throb low in her body wake up again. How did he manage to look so handsome after choking on food?

He lowered his water glass without breaking eye contact and she shivered, zoning out of whatever conversation was happening. Something bumped her foot and she realized it was his, nestling into her arch like some sort of silent reassurance. She quickly glanced around, sure that someone would notice, would see, but no one even glanced their way.

Hmm.

She let her foot slide against his, moving upwards. It was bare, her sandals at the door, and she teased it up the side of his calf, watching from the side of her eyes as his shoulders tensed. She rubbed it against the inside of his knee and he clenched his jaw, staring down at his plate. It was cruel, maybe, but he started it, and something about getting him off by playing footsie was really… hot. El couldn't remember ever having this much affect over him. First in the bathroom and now this? She'd teased him before, but he'd always been so… careful; so in control. It seemed that now he had no way to resist.

It was fucking amazing.

She let her foot drift up, to his thighs, setting it on his chair between his legs and letting it rest there. His hands were clenched and he looked like he was struggling, trying not to breathe heavily as he glanced up to her and then back down.

"El, Mike."

They both snapped to attention and El froze, heart thudding against her ribcage in sudden fear. They were so busted.

Dustin was staring at them with a discerning gaze, eyes full of the burning curiosity that had always guided him. El tried to compose herself, offering a pinched smile. Her foot was still crammed between Mike's legs and she could feel something hard pressing against her toes. She didn't dare look at him, keeping her fixated eyes on Dustin.

"Yeah?" Her voice sounded strained.

"So like… is it really not awkward for you guys _at all_?"

"Dustin!" Max exclaimed, immediately outraged. "Really?!"

He put his hands up in defense, looking around the table. "What? Everybody's been _thinking_ it, don't hate me because I'm not afraid to ask!"

"It's fine," Mike barked abruptly and they all stopped to look at him. His face was red and he looked… flustered. El knew it wasn't because of the question. "I mean, we're fine. We talked it out."

"Yeah. We're chill. It's all good," El quickly added, her vernacular unusually… slangy. Nobody noticed, their minds lubricated enough by the wine and drinks to let it slide.

Dustin looked between the two of them, unconvinced, and Lucas facepalmed, shaking his head in disbelief at their curly-haired friend's actions. A squabble quickly broke out between the two and Max jumped in to defend Lucas, but El didn't really hear what they were saying, too busy trying to slowly pull her foot away from Mike's crotch. His hand suddenly caught her ankle, keeping her from pulling away. She stifled a gasp as he shoved it closer to him, the act tugging her forward in her chair by half an inch, an act of obvious dominance. He stared at her, eyes hungry and full of the desperate intensity she knew so well.

It was obvious that the only thing keeping him from grabbing her and throwing her onto the table was the presence of their four friends. She could almost see it in his face, the fantasy that he was imagining for them. Goosebumps lifted on her skin.

She clenched her thighs and tried to stifle the gasp that left her throat, quickly disguising it as a cough and then jerking her foot back away from his grip. Curling it under her body, she pressed it between her legs, trying to calm herself.

She spent the rest of the dinner avoiding his intense gaze, knowing that all it would take is one of his heated looks to start a fire that would spark into her and start something she didn't want to try and handle. Fuck, how did he do that? Earlier she'd had the control and suddenly he was making her come undone with just his stare. She wanted that advantage back.

Determined to regain control of her rebellious body, she tuned to back in to the conversation. Will was telling a story about he and Mike biking through Central Park and running into a film crew shooting a movie. So he still biked. That would explain why his legs had gone from scrawny to nicely toned. She wanted to pretend like she hadn't noticed how good his butt looked, but she definitely had that morning as he'd pulled on his pants. God, how was he so attractive? It wasn't fair.

El frowned as she realized she had been sidetracked with thoughts of him. The fact that he was now rubbing his foot against her inner ankle wasn't making things any easier.

Luckily, Max stood at that moment, starting to clear away everyone's now empty plates. Seizing the opportunity, El popped up, insisting that she would take care of dishes tonight, considering it an early wedding gift. Max was the bride after all, and El could use the distraction.

Everyone else gathered in the living room on the couches. She could hear them talking and laughing as she scrubbed the red sauce from the plates and poured soap into the sink so the pans could soak. She was so engrossed in scrubbing she didn't hear him come into the kitchen.

A pair of large hands grabbed her hips, pulling her back against a broader chest. She could feel something hard pressing against her ass and gasped as his body pinned her against the counter. She'd known exactly who it was the moment he'd touched her. A tiny, frustratingly needy-sounding, whine escaped her throat as his hand wandered up, squeezing her breasts, and he grinded against her, clearly struggling to keep himself from bending her over the counter and taking her right there. God, why was she suddenly entertaining the idea of letting him?

"Mike," she gasped, feeling out of breath. "Anyone could walk in."

"I _had_ to feel you. After sitting at the table… fuck, El, I need you _now_."

"L-Later. We c-can't—" she chided, all the while writhing against him. "Mike, we can't." It was gasp as he thrusted against her.

Her panties were totally soaked and she was glad for the heavy denim of her overall dress that hid her rock hard nipples. She was so close to giving in. How did he turn her into this so easily? It could be a quickie, all he had to do was unzip his pants and push her underwear to the side and she would finally be full of his big, hot—

"Mike!"

They jumped apart, suds flying, and the plate she'd been gripping onto slipped from her hand, hitting the ground with a crash. It cracked into white shards and El gasped, looking up as Max pushed through the swinging door.

"I'm s-sorry, it slipped—" she tried to explain, shaking her head. She had let herself get distracted and look what happened. Why was she so clumsy? "I-I'll buy you a new one," she told her friend, feeling as shattered as the plate, dropping to her knees to start trying to clean up the mess.

"Jeez, El," Max looked surprised. "It's fine, it's just a plate."

"No, no, I wasn't paying attention and l-look what I _did_ ," she looked up at them, feeling tears forming, shaking her head. "You can't fix it. It's… it's _broken_."

"El, hey." Max tried to get her attention but she was focused on gathering the fragments of white porcelain, ignoring the way the chips dug into her fingers. She was almost frantic, feeling panic well up, her face hot. _Stupid, stupid, stupid._ "El!"

She looked up, wiping her nose. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Mike, watching silently from behind the open refrigerator door. That's what distraction lead to. Shattered. Broken. Unfixable. It was about more than the plate. How could she be so stupid?

Max was kneeling in front of her, helping her to gather the last few pieces, talking calmly and it took El a second to zone back in and listen to what she was saying.

"—don't beat yourself up. I know sometimes it's easier to be mad yourself but it's okay. We don't get mad because you make mistakes." Max's ice-blue gaze met El's. "Okay?"

It was a familiar mantra, one she'd heard from all her friends and family. One of the hardest things she'd struggled with after her return had been the fear of disappointing them. No, they weren't Papa and she wasn't imprisoned in a cold room of isolation when she messed up, but the intense fear that came with letting down someone she loved or respected was sometimes too much to bear. A bad grade, a burnt lasagna, a dropped tray of food. All of it had sent her into spirals of panic, and just a few weeks ago she'd ended up sitting on a case of frozen hot dogs in the freezer at the diner and crying into her hands after spilling coffee on one of her regulars. The kind man hadn't even been mad.

And now she had let Mike take over everything, to the point where she couldn't even wash dishes without breaking something. Why was she so weak and stupid?

But Max's blue eyes were a shock to her system and she took a deep breath, nodding slowly, remembering who she was with. Right. Max wasn't upset. It was just a plate. It was okay. They finished grabbing the last few pieces of porcelain and threw it into the the trash, Max's hand reaching for El's and giving it a quick squeeze. A soft touch. El sighed.

The redhead turned to face Mike, who was still quietly observing as though shocked, a look of annoyed disbelief on her face.

"Where's the beers, Wheeler?" Max raised an eyebrow. "We've been waiting so long my impatient lover sent me to find out what the hold up was? Were you helping with the dishes or something?"

Mike stuck his head into the fridge, avoiding eye contact. She didn't know she was oddly close to the truth and he seemed to want to keep it that way.

"Chill out. I was trying to decide between Bud Light and… what is this stuff? Backswing?" He stuck his head over the door, grinning nonchalantly, as if watching his ex-girlfriend freak out over breaking a plate was totally normal.

"It's a local brewery. Fancy shit. Lucas likes it. Just grab a few of both, we're waiting."

"Be there in a minute."

With a final reassuring look at her maid of honor, Max left and he stood back up, his arousal glaringly obvious now that it was no longer shielded by the refrigerator. El suddenly felt the urge to roll her eyes, breathing out the last bits of her panic and letting them fade away, focusing on what was in front of her. And god, this was getting ridiculous. Could he not control himself for another half hour? She huffed, refusing to look at him and going back to dishes instead.

She felt his breath on the back of her neck, the ghost of his hand on her hip and she tensed. No. Not this time. She wouldn't mess up again.

"Hey, are you—"

The words rushed from her lips because she knew she wouldn't be able to handle it for much longer, voice pleading, "Don't, Mike. You're just making it worse."

It was quiet for a moment and she inhaled feeling him press closer. Then his arms wrapped around her waist and squeezed lightly, a soft kiss pressed to the back of her head. She closed her eyes and and felt herself sink into it, almost shivering happily, some sort of easy certainty flooding through her. He always made it so easy to give in, whether to fiery passion or soft gentleness.

"Sorry," he murmured softly against her ear, arms tightening for a heartbeat. "I'll stop."

And then he was gone and she was left feeling even more on edge. The passion and need to taste and touch she could almost handle, when it was just bodies and need and lust. His sweet nature was a far more dangerous weapon against her guarded heart. It would be too easy to let herself imagine that they could have what they'd had again, but she knew it was impossible. She was going home at the end of the week, and he was going back to New York. Getting attached would just be asking for more heartache.

But...

The idea of stopping whatever was going on between them was _extremely_ unappealing. Her body was keyed up for him, and the idea of not finding release made no sense to her wine-drenched mind. And it wasn't like he was unwilling...

 _It can just be physical_ , she thought hopefully, ignoring her warning bells that were ringing frantically in her mind. The far more reasonable side of her brain, that was very foggy and muddled at that moment, was telling her that she'd never been able to keep her emotions out of the physical aspect of their relationship.

She wouldn't give in, she determined.

She finished the dishes, feeling that tight knot of anxiety in her stomach, and reluctantly wandered out to the living room. Her friends were sitting slouched across the couches, holding beers and laughing. The sight warmed her heart and she let her eyes fall on the only open spot on the couch. Next to Mike. She hesitated, but rationalized that it would draw more attention to the two of them if she made a point to not sit next him after they both proclaimed that it was fine.

Taking a breath, she steeled herself and casually walked over and fell onto the couch cushion. His clothed leg pressed against her half bare one, there wasn't a ton of room, but she pointedly didn't allow herself notice, instead smiling at Lucas, who was talking about his job.

"Y'know, if you ever get tired of New York, you could move out here, Mike. I'm sure my company would hire you in an instant, you're one of the best programmers I know," Lucas turned his attention to his tall friend.

Mike shrugged, leaning back against the couch cozily, his arm going up on the back, almost around her shoulders. "I like New York too much, sorry. You need to come and visit us. Like the ocean is nice but… I dunno, something about the big city and all the people moving and living all the time… how it never sleeps." His eyes were glowing, El noticed, and something in her twisted tighter. "It's crazy how I can wake up at three in the morning and still be able to go out and get coffee and see people walking around. So different from Hawkins…" he sighed happily. "It just feels more like home now than Indiana ever has."

El tried to ignore the sick feeling that had been rising in her stomach during Mike's description of New York. She'd been kidding herself before to even think that she could belong with him again. He had a new home and it wasn't anywhere near her. The place he would always choose over her.

Biting her lip she blinked back tears, scooting away from the curve of his arm that brushed her shoulder. Everything felt wrong and the intense fire that had been waiting for him fell apart as she realized how stupid she had been. Feeling anything would only lead to the same place it had before and suddenly she was standing, wanting to get away from this suddenly suffocating apartment.

It was quiet as her friends gazed up at her, matching faces of confusion and concern staring at her. She cleared her throat.

"I, um, I'm not feeling great. Could someone give me a ride back?" Her hand rested on her stomach, where the painful knot of sick anxiety was strangling her. "It's my stomach."

"I could—" Mike started to offer but was cut off by Will.

"I can, I kind of wanted to head back anyways and catch the sunset on the water. Jonathan said I had to get some pictures," he explained as he stood, setting his water glass on the coffee table. "You guys need to sober up a bit more anyways."

She didn't notice the forlorn look of worry on Mike's face behind her, quickly gathering her things and saying bye to Max. Her ginger friend gave her an awkward sitting hug, eyes full of concern. Before she pulled away, she mumbled loosely to her, "You alright?" clearly remembering the episode earlier in the kitchen.

"I'll be fine. Just need to get some sleep," El promised, attempting a pained smile.

She didn't give the redhead a chance to argue, quickly slipping away and heading towards the door without acknowledging Mike or Dustin, just needing to get away and try to collect herself again. The ocean had been so nice last night, cool on her feet, but she'd been warned not to be at the beach alone at night, deciding maybe another cold shower would work. The bruises on her hips and the feel of his heavy hands made her shiver and clench her thighs, taking a deep breath as she followed Will out to the rental car. It was blessedly silent for a few minutes as they got in and drove.

"So…" Will's voice broke her silent reverie. "Do you want to keep pretending there isn't something going on between you and Mike or…?"

" _What_?" Her head snapped to look at her stepbrother.

"I mean, I don't know if anyone else noticed, but I saw the way you two kept looking at each other…" He shrugged as he drove, casually avoiding eye contact. "I can't tell if it's good or bad but it's _something_."

El felt a wave of exhaustion crash over her. She had lied to Max and Lucas and Mike and everyone in her life to try and keep the truth hidden away, but having to lie to Will right then felt impossible, and she slumped in her seat. Maybe she didn't have to tell him _everything_ …

"I don't know either, Will," she quavered, on the verge of crying again. "I didn't know he still cared about me. I was sure he'd moved on. But he hasn't, he told me last night, and now… I don't know what to feel."

"He tried," replied Will quietly. "To move on, I mean. I know that. He thought you didn't… want him at all. That you didn't come with him because you didn't love him anymore." He paused for a moment, and El could see that he was choosing his words carefully. "He was really messed up for a while. I guess he never got over you."

El was warring between feeling angry and guilty. _He_ was the one who left, but she'd pushed him away… She didn't notice how Will was watching her with a calculating gaze from the driver's seat, face lit up red from the glow of the stoplight. "What am I supposed to do _now_? It's not like… I mean, we're all leaving after the wedding. I won't see him again… there's no point, Will." The words felt broken, cracking from her lips like the shards of plate on the floor. "It's just going to hurt again."

Will was quiet, the pain in her voice sobering him. He knew her the best now, better than even Mike. They had spent countless nights in each other's rooms as kids, talking about nightmares and the future and the fear that was always there, things they still talked about now when he would come home visit, falling asleep together on the couch. He was her family and she'd become the sister he hadn't known he needed. But even he was at a loss.

"Just… maybe just take it day by day. You could always talk to him about it—"

"No," she shook her head, adamant. "I can't. He'll just say what he said last time. I can't _hear_ that again. Didn't you hear him talking about New York? About _home_?"

"Yeah…"

"He won't leave. I can't ask him to."

There was a pause as Will pulled into the parking lot of the motel, easing into a spot and then sighing heavily as he parked the car. He glanced at her from the side of his eye, bracing himself as if he knew what he was about to say wouldn't go over well. El felt herself tense.

"What if you moved out—"

"Stop. Don't do that," she shook her head. "You know I can't."

"I know you _won't_ ," he rebutted, but not unkindly.

She crossed her arms stubbornly, looking away and shoving her purse farther onto her shoulder, huffing, "There's no point talking about this." Her hand reached for the handle and she started to push out of the vehicle. "It's not possible."

El didn't give him a chance to reply as she shut the door heavily, marching straight to her room, feeling irritated. Once behind the closed door, she felt the keen spike of regret at treating her brother so shittily. She knew he always meant well, but at the same time she was annoyed that he would even bring it up, as if she hadn't thought about it and agonized over that very idea for the past two years. No, that wasn't an option. It just wasn't.

She fumbled the giant plastic seahorse out of her purse and shoved the key into the lock, shoving the door open and letting it slam shut behind her. The room was dark and she sighed, turning on a single lamp next to her bed and then slumping onto it. A shower didn't sound good anymore, nothing sounded good. Other than maybe crawling under her covers and never coming out again… that sounded perfect.

The intrusive thoughts came back, the anxiety and paranoia, but were interrupted with memories of their earlier teasing, his hands on her body, his lips against her ear... She was still feeling the aftershocks of the desire, unable to shake the feeling off. That morning had reminded her of what she'd had and now she didn't want to let it go again. Not when he was a single wall away.

Her gaze shifted to the alarm clock, glancing at the time. Would he still come to her room? She had invited him, to "talk". But maybe he would take her pulling away in the kitchen and her sudden departure as signs she didn't want to see him. And she didn't… but she did.

Getting lost in him was so easy. So instinctual and right. Like she was made to be close to him, to complete him and be a part of him. It was how they'd been for so long and not even the past two years could sever it. The connection had always been there, throbbing beneath scar tissue. She had never truly let him go.

Past memories flooded in, all of the ones she'd avoided thinking of. The trip to the lake their senior year, the summer after his first year at MIT, the numerous times he'd snuck through her window over the years. Cuddling, laughing, fighting, kissing, crying, teasing, fucking… her mind was a whirl of the past.

It felt like she'd only been sitting there for a few minutes, lost in her mind, but there was a knock, a knock she recognized. Her eyes flicked back to the alarm clock. Almost an hour had passed.

"El?"

The voice needed no introduction and she sighed heavily, feeling absolutely torn. The wiser part of her knew she should tell him to go away, to protect her aching heart, and end whatever it was that kept pulling her back to him. Kill it off before it was too late, before she let herself fall.

"El, hey. Can… can we talk? Please." A pause. "You said we could earlier, I just…" The voice trailed off and she heard a thump and a sigh, imagining him letting his forehead fall forward against the door as he tried to find words.

If he wanted to talk about what happened earlier in the bathroom and the kitchen… she didn't see a point. There wasn't anything to explain. Was it not enough for him that she was completely at his will when he touched her? Did he really need to hear her _say_ it, admit out loud that she had no way to to resist him?

And if he wanted to talk about something else, about what they "were" or what they had been, she didn't want to try and explain that either. The whole point was to not talk to just feel… could he not understand that?

God, she wasn't sure if she would be able to handle looking at him again. Just the thought of him made her thighs clench, the ghost of his breath against her throat, his heat pressed to hers.

Opening the door would only lead to one place.

"I just want to make sure you're okay. I know I… I fucked up in the kitchen." He hadn't. She wanted him to know that. It wasn't his fault, really. "Please, El, just for a second, I need to see you."

His voice was muffled but she could hear the pleading tone, the sound already working against her resolve. Fuck it. They only had this week, that was it. Was it wrong to take what she could get before they left again? To take what he offered, to let him be sweet to her, to taste and touch and feel him again, just for a little longer?

It could be enough. It could maybe get her through the rest of her life without him. It would have to.

Her feet were moving and her hand was on the door knob, the heat from earlier returning with every step, and pooling between her legs. Remembering his hands on her hips, his breath in her ear, his body grinding against her as she panted and whined. Yes, she wanted him. At least one more time.

The door opened and she reached, taking him by the shirt and hauling him inside before he could say anything, pushing the door shut behind him. He stared down at her in surprise, concern and want at war in his dark brown eyes. He blinked and licked his lips, as if trying to clear his desire. When he spoke it was raspy and low.

"El, maybe we should just—"

But she shook her head, putting a finger over his lips and watching him swallow at the feel of her touch. She didn't want to talk and decided to make it impossible. Reaching up for the buckles on her overall dress, she unsnapped them, letting the denim fall off of her body as his eyebrows raised in surprise, the desire flooding his eyes again as she stood before him.

Her arms reached and then her fingers were in his hair, pulling him down so their mouths could meet. At her touch relief flooded his expression and he grabbed at her, gathering her close, his hands trying to hold every part of her to him as he dove into her, tongue opening her as she inched them backwards, leading him to her bed. Whatever he'd wanted to say was swallowed as the back of his knees hit the edge of the mattress.

They broke apart and she shoved him, pushing hard enough that he fell backwards onto the open sheets, still partially unmade. "El," he gasped, looking up at her, dazed and uncertain but not unwilling. She felt herself smirking, knowing that she had the control back, that he was entirely under her spell, his eyes widening as she raised an eyebrow.

"Mike."

She answered the question he'd spoken into her name in the same way he had, her voice low as she looked down at him, sprawled before her. Without hesitating—without thinking—she gave in to the urge, falling on top of him and crawling up to his meet his lips as his hands grabbed her waist, letting everything else in the world that wasn't _him_ fade away.

* * *

 ** _AN: They're not very good at keeping their hands off of each other. But I suppose that's how it goes when you love someone, huh? I hope El can figure that out._**

 ** _I think this story is more angsty in my head but at the same time it's not even halfway done. Send me Eliza both some good vibes, please, I know we could both use it. I hope to see you all sooner than later. Maybe less than a month next time. Let's hope this summer warmth and sunshine motivates me._**

 ** _Please leave me a review! I hate to beg but I just love hearing from you all and it always makes me smile to see your thoughts and/or frustrations/theories. Some of you are damn close to the truth, but alas, no spoilers!_**

 ** _Thank you all for sticking through. I hope I can make you all happy._**

 ** _~Wynn_**


	5. Chapter 5

**_AN:_**

 ** _I decided to be nice and not wait a month. Also, I wrote an entire new chapter last night and I'm feeling motivated and... good. It's an odd feeling._** ** _I'm going to try and keep pushing but I'm at a bit of creative impasse so hopefully that will work itself out soon and I'll be back. For now I hope you enjoy._**

* * *

 _"So breathe in so deep_

 _Breathe me in_

 _I'm yours to keep"_

El's eyes were fixed on the single beam of light that was glowing through the sliver in the curtains, wondering what time it was. There was a heavy arm around her waist, pinning her to the solid figure still slumbering behind her. His soft, even breathing was warm against the curve of her neck. She knew if she moved to check the alarm clock behind her, he would jolt awake—he'd always been a violent waker when disturbed—and she wanted the moment of peace to last a little longer.

She dared to shift her legs, wincing at the sore pang between her thighs, her insides feeling tender and… raw. They hadn't been gentle the night before, fighting for control until she'd pinned him down with her mind and ridden him to her completion. After she'd slumped onto him, panting, he'd flipped her, getting her onto her hands and knees and pounding out the frustration he'd felt all day that he'd shown in the bathroom and kitchen. He was still a generous lover, allowing her to finish a second time before letting himself unwind.

It had been hot and heavy and almost perfect.

" _Mike, please, fill me," she begged, rocking her hips back against him, clenching and trying to help him reach that point of bliss. "Please, I want it."_

 _She'd wanted that final thread of intimacy, the one he'd always given her before, to tie them together. His rather abrupt pulling out the previous time had felt so wrong and she wanted him to give it to her now, wanted the proof of him she would feel later, wanted to feel him come undone inside of her. Wanted it to be like it had always been._

" _El, fuck, I_ —"

 _And then he was gone and there was something warm on her lower back, his breath panting and gasping against her shoulder. The same emotion she felt before had come back but she'd been too tired to say anything, falling onto the bed, trying to catch her breath._

 _Empty._

There was something off, but she didn't know what and she was too afraid to ask. Was he holding back because knew what waited for them at the end of the week? It was the only explanation, and while it was fair… it didn't make it any less disappointing.

His hand twitched against her hip, beneath the tangled sheets they were twisted into, and she felt his breath stutter. There was a soft sigh, her mess of hair tickling her neck and then she felt him shift, his arm tightening around her waist, pulling her closer to the concave of his body, a sleepy, "Mmm" leaving his lips.

At the sound, her heart flip flopped in her chest and she pushed away the uncertainty, deciding to enjoy the moment and rolling over to face him. His eyes blinked open slowly as she reached, stroking his mop of ebony hair from his sleepy black lashes, letting her fingers trace the shape of his face. Everything felt easy and calm, like it had the previous morning, the gentle glow of the early sun peeking between the curtains, his body warm and sturdy.

"Morning," she murmured, feeling something in her chest give way a bit as he smiled lazily back at her. "I thought you'd sleep all day."

"I feel like I could. I'm tired after yesterday." He reached up, rubbing his eyes like he was trying to wipe away the residual exhaustion. "Just sleeping today would be great. Lying here. Just like this." His arm moved back down, winding around her waist and pulling her closer again, that damn happy smile she'd always loved lighting up his face as he leaned down to press a kiss to her temple.

El felt herself shiver. It was so intimate, so… normal. Or maybe what normal would have been if they were back in Hawkins, in a small apartment of their own. If he'd never left. A glimpse of what they could have been. She closed her eyes and surrendered to it, letting her hand reach up and rest against his cheek, his lips still pressed to her forehead. It could have been so perfect.

The warning bells were back, the ones that were telling her that just being physical was already failing. It would never work. Not with him, not when he was like this. So… sweet. Perfect and gentle, and loving, and completely accepting regardless of the situation. Like she was the only thing in the entire universe that mattered. It had always been like that, from the very beginning, the way his dark eyes would focus on her and it felt like she was his entire… everything. The only person he wanted to see.

"El." His voice was almost a sigh, his hand sliding up her back to play with her hair. "I missed this."

Her own hand traced down, across his chest, and she kept her eyes shut with her forehead pressed to his clavicle, avoiding his gaze. Curling into him felt right, and his words made her shiver again. It would be too much to see how he was looking at her, what emotion lived in his eyes. She wouldn't be able to resist.

"Not just, like, sex," he continued, his voice rumbling low, where she could feel it against her forehead. "Well, I missed that too but I mean… this. I missed this. I missed holding you." His hand moved down to her lower back squeezed like a reflex. "I forgot how you mumble when you sleep. How fucking cute you are. And how—how perfect you feel in my arms… I didn't think I could forget anything about you. Or I hadn't realized I forgot. Right now it's…" She heard him swallow, felt his adam's apple bob as he searched for words. "It's like I'm dreaming. And I _really_ don't want to wake up." His lips brushed the top of her head and then his hand was on her chin, tilting her face up to him.

Their mouths met, so carefully, and she felt herself melting, felt the wall and resolve she'd constructed so carefully start to shake and crumble. Her eyelids cracked open just barely—his kiss so easy and needy—knowing if she met his stare, she wouldn't be able to hold back from him for another second. He would have her heart again.

His lips were soft, her own opening up for him, lashes fluttering against his cheek, her fingers curling into the locks at the nape of his neck, pulling him closer and—

 _BANG BANG BANG!_

They broke apart with matching startled gasps, the knocking on the door sounding more like an attempt to break it down, the wood groaning. El automatically reached for the sheet, covering herself as she sat up, staring at the door and feeling extremely confused as to who would be pounding on it. The easy comfort vanished and she felt Mike lay a protective hand on her waist as he sat up too, as if he was any more ready to deal with an intruder in his naked state than she was.

The worry vanished at the sound of the familiar lisping voice.

"Rise and shine, El! It's your favorite friendly groomsmen here to tell you to get your lazy ass out of bed and come have breakfast on the beach!" Dustin sounded obnoxiously cheerful and El immediately scoffed at the idea of him being her favorite _anything_ at the moment. "Up and at 'em, Seven Eleven!"

"Would it ruin the wedding if you murdered him?" Mike mumbled under his breath and El had to cover her mouth, barely containing her snort of laughter.

"If you don't get up, I'm coming in there. You've been moping and missing out on all the fun and I won't let you hide away today!" El rolled her eyes. He couldn't get in, he didn't have a— "I got your spare key from Mr. Lo, I told him you'd lost your purse again. I'm serious. I'll drag you down to the beach if I have to!"

El's eyes went wide, panic flooding her as she heard him jiggle the doorknob, swinging around to look at Mike who suddenly looked equally panicked. She pointed towards the bathroom, but he was already scrambling off of the bed, grabbing his clothes from the floor and disappearing inside, trying to keep his footsteps quiet. The handle on the door clicked threateningly and El felt her temper snap.

"Dustin, if you open that door I will melt your fucking brain right out of your head!" She yelled angrily, running to her open suitcase and quickly grabbing her pajamas. The door stopped shaking and she sighed as she slid on the police academy sweatshirt and pair of worn boxers she usually wore to sleep before walking over to the door and barely cracking it open, squinting against the bright sunlight.

Dustin looked way too pleased with himself, holding a picnic basket and wearing swim trunks and flip flops. She resisted the urge to glance to her immediate left, where Mike was currently hiding in the bathroom. Her heart pounded and she didn't hide her scowl, glaring at her curly-haired friend.

"Hand over the key," she demanded, holding her hand out expectantly.

"Come on! You know you wouldn't have agreed if I hadn't shown some tough love."

"Give it."

"Fine…" conceded Dustin with a sigh of disappointment, handing over the key attached to an oversized sand dollar.

"Now, what do you want?" she snapped. "I was sleeping."

"I know, but it's almost noon and I want to have breakfast. Max and Lucas are coming over, we're all going down to the beach and you're coming too. I'm getting Mike next and then Will so—"

"No!" She gasped, then covered her mouth, realizing her mistake. "I mean, I'll come. But… you can't ask Mike. Because he… went for a walk." If Dustin tried to get into Mike's room and found it empty, it would be suspicious. Her mind grabbed a lie. "He knocked earlier, asked me to go. I told him no because I wanted to _sleep_ ," she said emphatically.

"A walk?"

She shrugged, feigning indifference. "That's what he said. I didn't care."

Dustin stared at her, eyebrow raised, and she was sure her heart would burst right out of her chest it was beating so fast. It was a bad lie, Mike didn't even exer—

"Eesh, him and Will turning into health nuts out there. _Walking_ everywhere and _working out_ ," he lifted a lip and shook his head as if disappointed. "What a bunch of losers."

El opened her mouth to reply to that, a bit confused and surprised, not sure what he meant, but then she remembered the bigger issue at hand and rolled her eyes. "I'll come to the beach, just let me change, okay?"

"Yes!"

He looked proud of himself and she decided not to spoil it by telling him she'd been planning on spending some time out on the sand anyways. She and Joyce had gone shopping for the trip and her stepmother had convinced her to get a new swimsuit just for the occasion, one a little more modern than her worn out blue one piece. Instead she glanced at the picnic basket and felt her stomach rumble, sniffing hopefully.

"Breakfast?"

"A whole box of Eggos, already toasted."

She swallowed and nodded more eagerly. "I'll meet you out there. I need to brush my teeth and stuff. Go get Will."

"If you see Mike, drag him out too. He sucks at saying no to you."

"What? No—We don't—I mean, that's not true," she huffed feeling nervous and annoyed at his need to always remind her of the past. "I'll tell him if I see him."

With that she shut the door right in his face, hearing him grumble from the other side followed by his retreating footsteps. She slumped against the door in relief, realizing her legs were trembling and quickly staggering back to the bed. A pair of hands caught her before she made it, and she yelped in surprise as Mike snagged her hips and pulled her back against him, his body shaking as he wrapped his arms around her and collapsed onto her shoulder.

It took a second for her to realize he was _laughing_.

Turning, she raised a brow, feeling a giggle escape her lips as he laughed so hard he wheezed, his arms pulling her close, his half clothed body completely vibrating with mirth. "I can't believe he bought that," he cracked up again. "And that he thought barging in you would be a good idea? I thought you were going to snap him in half!"

"Yeah, well… I was thinking about it," she agreed, grinning.

"I can't believe he went and got the spare key, that old guy wouldn't even give it to _me_ yesterday… god, did he really think busting in on you would be a good idea? Does he have a fucking death wish?!"

It took them several seconds to calm and when the humor of the situation faded, El remembered the seriousness of it all, glancing down. They'd almost been caught. Again. She was letting herself be careless, getting caught up in the moment… losing herself to him so much she didn't pay attention. Just like in the kitchen with the plate. Was it always going to be this way?

He must have felt her tense because his hand rubbed across her back soothingly, concern replacing the amusement in his eyes.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing, um, I just… it's a little…" She was staring down at her hands, resting splayed out against his ribcage, his skin so pale it looked like frost between her fingers. "I mean, _this_ —"

"Us?"

She flinched, she couldn't help it, and she felt his muscles tighten under her hands as he realized how she felt, discomfort flooding in between them and replacing the easy warmth that had surrounded them in bed. It made her uneasy, the thought of _them_ being an "us" again. They couldn't be. She knew that it wasn't possible. That had been her entire thought process she'd gone through while washing dishes. But she wanted to think it was. She wanted to pretend like everything was going to be amazing, as amazing as last night as they cried out each other's names and this morning, wrapped in the sheets and warm comfort.

But it couldn't be more than that. Common sense knew better.

"Mike…" She didn't know where she was even going but at the sound of his name his arms slackened around her. "We can't… you know we can't be what we were."

There was a pause. She could almost hear him thinking. He'd become a stranger but his habits were the same and he was ridiculously easy to read. His energy had always been obvious. When he spoke again he sounded a bit hurt.

"Why not? You said you still want me. You keep touching me and… I mean, we can't stop…" His face was flushing. She didn't even have to look up to know. "I-I still want you too, El. I can't keep my hands off of you even when I try…"

"You're going back to New York in four days. I'm going home. That's it, Mike."

"That's _it_?"

"What else is there?"

His arms fell off of her and she watched him walk away from her, watched him start pacing across the mint green carpet, moving her own aching body towards the bed and sitting on the end of it. Oh right. Pacing. That was something he did when he was worried. Or nervous. Or angry. Shit… was he angry? She risked a glance at his face and didn't see anger so much as frustration. She stayed quiet and after a minute he stopped, turning to her.

"So you want to just stop this? Now?" He almost sounded like he was in pain.

"No!" The word flew from her lips before she could stop it. Their eyes met and she shook her head, wrapping her arms around herself and then quickly looking away. "I mean… I'm okay with—with this. With right now. And yesterday." She took a quick breath, feeling her palms sweat and her heart racing and risking it, saying out loud the conclusion she'd come to last night. "I'm fine with this week. If this is… if we're just this."

Trepidation immediately flooded through her and she shifted away, inhaling sharply and closing her eyes. She waited for the disgust and the anger and the hurt to fill his voice as he told her she was a terrible person, that she was stupid and selfish for thinking that he would be okay being relegated to a glorified fuck buddy.

She wouldn't let herself admit that it was more than just that. That the cuddles and soft gestures and warm kisses were weakening her defenses. Surely, they could fool themselves for the next few days that whatever was going on between them was pure lust and need and the primal, human urge to fuck.

It _couldn't_ be more than that… but it always was when it was your soulmate. It became more. It became _everything._

The bed dipped and her eyes popped open as she felt him sit next to her, close enough to feel his warmth. She shivered, the cold feeling in her stomach abating a bit. His boxer-clad thigh pressed against hers and she stared down at the point of contact, completely unsure of what he was going to say.

"So… you're okay with whatever happens this week? If what's been happening… keeps happening?" His voice was hard to read but he didn't sound angry. More curious.

El felt her lungs tighten. "Are you?" It was almost a whisper.

He was close, she could feel his breath on her neck and then he was pulling her to him, crushing her against his chest. His heartbeat pounded against her, matching her own staccato rhythm. A kiss on her sweaty tangle of hair.

"I want to stay like this, El. If it's too much… I want whatever you can give. We can figure it out from there, how about that?" He swallowed, hands gathering her nearer to him. "This can't be over." His voice dropped, the words slipping out hoarsely. "Not right _now_."

She hesitated, unsure what exactly he meant. Now as in the moment? It had to be… she'd already explained they would lose each other at the end of the week. Was he accepting her unorthodox proposal?

Was he really okay with not having a label or a clue about what they were, about just letting it be an unnamed feeling?

His words sounded right, the idea _felt right,_ and she bit her lip. Her arms went up, wrapping around his waist and she nodded. How was he so… understanding? He had the right to ask for more but instead he was telling her he wanted her to be comfortable. Her heart pounded against the wall she'd surrounded it with, shaking the foundations of her determination.

"Okay," she whispered. "Yeah."

His ribs jumped as he inhaled sharply and then he squeezed her once, looking down at her. She looked back, seeing the warmth in his eyes, the happy quirk in his lips. Maybe this was it. Maybe it was all he needed. It could be enough.

"Cool… cool." He paused and licked his lips. "Um, also… are those my boxers?"

"Huh?"

Surprised by the sudden change in topic, her gaze went down to the worn pair of plaid boxers. Over the years her style had evolved from Hop's first humble offerings to something considerably more feminine, but there'd always been an assortment of men's clothing she wore at home or on weekends. Both her dad and her two stepbrothers had rather unwillingly contributed to the collection and she wasn't always sure where some of the items had come from. She didn't remember when the boxers had appeared, she just knew they were perfect for sleeping in. But… now that she thought about it…

"Oh, um, maybe?"

"They definitely are. Those were like my favorite… I can't believe you stole—actually, I _can_ believe it…"

"Shut up, you probably left them at my house and forgot. I didn't _steal_ them." She tugged at the soft fabric. "I thought Jonathan left them or something… I don't know…"

"Really? Your step-brother left his underwear in your room?" Mike challenged, quirking an eyebrow and El shuddered at the thought.

"No, that's not what I meant—He just leaves clothes sometimes when he visits," she defended, rising from the bed and moving to the dresser to pull out her swimsuit, suddenly feeling very possessive over the article of clothing. "Besides it's been like three years. Do you really want them back?"

Mike was still sitting on the bed, watching her as she set the two piece on top of the dresser. She turned and quirked a brow as he gestured down. "I told you, those were some of my favorites."

"Well, now they're some of _my_ favorites," she countered sweetly, turning back to square off with the man sitting on her bed.

"They're stolen property, technically. I could reclaim them," he told her, rising, a wolfish gleam in his eyes.

She snorted and turned back to the dresser drawer. "Yeah right."

"Don't make me come over there."

"I'm not worried."

It took three and a half seconds for his arms to wrap around her waist and pull her up into the air. She squealed as he swung her around and threw her over his shoulder, carrying her back to the bed and laughing. Her gasping turned into an unbelieving bark of protest as he threw her onto the decimated sheets. He came down on her, his knee between her thighs and his waist on her hips, pinning her wrists next her head and smiling.

El felt a bit surprised but she started giggling in disbelief as he cocked an eyebrow, a devilish smirk on his face. His eyes were playful and she squirmed a bit, not actually trying to fight him.

"I warned you," he intoned, trying to put on a serious face. "Now, are you going to give them back or do I need to take them back myself?"

"Mike…" It was meant to be a warning but it came out breathy and needy. Fuck, she didn't want him to stop.

He grinned again, that handsome, wolfish smile that made his dark eyes spark like midnight fire, a shiver running over her. God, it wasn't fair. He was so impossible to resist.

His hands released her wrists and he slid down her body, his fingers hooking into the elastic of the boxers, oh so slowly easing them down until one of her hip bones was exposed, then the other, his eyes fixated on the smooth skin. He looked up, meeting her eyes and fuck, oh shit, she was throbbing again, watching as he grinned and then moved to kiss the jutting slope of her hip, trailing across the plain of her stomach to the other, his breath hot through the thin cotton fabric, making the burn worse.

"Mike," she gasped. "W-We…" The protest died on her lips as his hand slid up her thigh and she closed her eyes, her back arching. God she wanted to give in, it was just so easy and now she wasn't worried because he was okay with just this… they could be _this_ , just gasping whispers and wandering lips, and the guilt that had told her he wouldn't allow it was gone.

But Dustin was waiting and she couldn't risk him coming back before Mike left. They just didn't have time right now. Maybe tonight would be a different story, but his fingers were pulling the boxers lower and his lips were moving and she felt a whine escape her lips. Her hands tangled into his hair and she tugged him, pulling his mouth off of her before things went too far, bringing him back up to her face.

"I have to get to the beach or Dustin will come back," she grumbled, watching his expression turn into a disappointed grimace. "He won't back off. I told him I'd go." A heavy sigh. "And he has Eggos. I'm hungry."

He'd been hovering over her but at her words he collapsed onto her with a pitiful groan, making her laugh as he gave up, flopping onto her as if he'd lost all will to try. "Fucking Eggos. I should never have started you on those things, you're like a junkie."

"They're _good_ ," she protested, playfully pushing him off and scooting to the side. "There's cinnamon sugar ones now. And strawberry."

"The one thing I've always been second to," he sighed mournfully. "Goddamn _toaster waffles_."

She giggled as she sat up, wrapping her arms around her knees and watching as he reluctantly climbed off of the bed, standing over her and grinning back. He was still such a dorky idiot, it felt good to laugh at his goofy humor again. She had missed that… how easily he made her laugh.

He finished dressing, yesterday's clothes rumpled on his tall frame, fishing an obnoxiously large life preserver keychain from his pocket and making sure the key to his room was still attached to it. It was such a casually messy look and she could remember so many times when he'd looked the same, standing next to her window as he snuck out of her room. His voice broke her from the memories. "So, are we going to say you ran into me on your way out to the beach and told me the plans for the day? I can change and meet you guys down there."

"Yeah," she agreed, watching him as he reached up suddenly to touch his shoulder, frowning in thought. Her head tilted at his concern. "What?"

"I can't go shirtless… I have scratches all over my back." He looked troubled but not upset, his brow puckering the way it always had when he was searching for a solution. "I guess I'll just have to wear a shirt… I hope I packed enough."

El felt a bloom of guilt. Those scratches were totally her fault. "S-Sorry," she stuttered, eyes wide.

"Oh, don't worry about. I just don't think I could explain those away…" His eyes found the spot on her collarbone where the pinched bruise purpled her skin. "How did you get away with that?"

She'd forgotten about it yesterday until she'd tried on her strapless bridesmaid's dress and Max had asked what had happened. It had been a quick lie, something about running into a shelf with a stack of books and getting a bruise, her voice casual enough to avoid arousing suspicion. She was still surprised it had worked.

"Work injury," she shrugged, biting her lip. "Sorry about scratching you."

"Really, don't worry about it. It's not like I didn't like it. I just don't think I can make them believe Catwoman jumped me in an alley or something." He was grinning at his lame attempt at a joke and she managed to roll her eyes, barely hiding a smirk. "It's not a big deal. I'll just wear a shirt and tell them I don't want to sunburn."

"You always burn."

"Exactly." He smiled triumphantly.

There was a moment as they stared at each other. He was obviously reluctant to leave but they both knew it was necessary. He started to move towards the door, fiddling with his room key, but quickly turned back around, crossing the floor to the bed. His hands found her chin and he was kissing her as she sighed, feeling so affectionate and relieved.

"Keep the boxers. I like seeing them on you," he murmured against her mouth, and El felt like she was actually going to melt into a puddle right there on the bed.

Then he was gone and she blinked her eyes open in time to see him open the door, gazing fondly at her over his shoulder. "See you down there," he promised with a relaxed smile.

"See you."

Her door shut and she heard the one next door open as he entered his own room. Something about him being so near made her heart happy and she got up and almost danced over to where her swimsuit lay, picking it up and taking it into the bathroom. She turned the shower on and brushed her teeth while the water warmed up, wanting to do a quick rinse to tame her curls. And she still had the sticky reminder of last night on her back, her body aching all over.

The knot of anxiety that had made her tense and moody had relaxed and she sighed happily under the spray, feeling better than she had in years. Mike was back and he was happy and she could touch him and taste him and not feel… afraid. They still had time this week.

She toweled off and quickly changed into her swimsuit, adjusting the top so it stayed up and inspecting herself. It looked good. The two-piece was cute, she thought. It was off the shoulder with ruffles that went around her arms and chest, bubblegum pink and white striped. The bottoms were cut high up her hips, which was currently popular and made her waist look even smaller. If Joyce hadn't insisted she try it on she probably would have gone for something more simple.

El smiled happily, scurrying back into the room and throwing her book, beach towel, sunscreen, and room key into her bag. Her sunglasses were sitting on the nightstand and she swiped the cat-eye frames and put them on along with her hat.

With a satisfied nod of her head she opened the door and stepped out into the hot sunshine, her flip flops thwacking against the sidewalk as she made her way to the sand, following the gentle roar of the waves to the end of the building. When she turned the corner she felt her heart stop, staring at the massive blue expanse. She'd seen glimpses of it yesterday as Max drove them to the brunch place, but other than the first night when it had been dark and she'd been drunk, she hadn't faced the full presence of the ocean.

It was amazing, never-ending, and she took a tentative step forward. Her eyes swept the beach for Dustin, spotting him on a checkered blanket with the familiar figures of Will and Max. They smiled when she joined them, her eyes glancing nervously at the sea. It was like the quarry but even bigger and she felt a shiver of anxiety at what was hidden in the dark depths. When she had been drunk and emotional the cool waves had felt good, the darkness inviting, but now she wasn't sure if she even wanted to get close to it.

"El! Oh my god! You're a total babe!" Max was staring up at her, looking almost shocked. "I don't think I've ever seen you wear something that wasn't… cute?"

El frowned and looked down at herself. "I look bad?"

"No, you look _hot_! Get down here before someone sees you!" Max grabbed El's wrist and pulled her down, grinning playfully.

"You do look nice, El," Dustin agreed, nodding happily. "She's right."

"Definitely," Will chimed in.

El felt herself blushing, looking away quickly, the shy demeanor she'd mostly outgrown coming back at her friend's compliments. It felt nice to feel nice, but it was even nicer when other people agreed. Before she could respond Lucas appeared holding a cooler and Mike was right behind him, toting another cooler and a bag. His eyes widened at the sight of her and she quickly glanced away, knowing she wouldn't be able to keep from smiling at him. Her heart danced in her chest and she tried to keep from being obvious as the group of friends dug into Dustin's attempt at brunch. Lucas and Max had brought a cooler full of beers, water bottles, and sodas and another one with sandwiches and chips.

She munched happily on the now cold Eggos and listened as everyone talked, occasionally adding a comment or correcting a memory but for the most part just enjoying being around everyone, the discomfort from last night gone. After lunch was scarfed down they decided to head into the water, but El quickly volunteered to stay and watch their things.

"Aw, you don't want to go swim in the ocean?" Lucas sounded crestfallen. "I just mean… it's pretty great, El."

"I… I know," she conceded, glancing towards the waves again. "It's just… deep, um…"

Max cut in, throwing her a fiance a look that said, "Stop talking" before reaching and squeezing El's hand. "You don't have to go in, Ellie, it's okay. Just get some sun and we'll be back in a bit."

"Okay."

She really wasn't upset with them for going in without her, watching her friends get up and walk out towards the water. They would have fun and that made her happy. As long as they were happy, she didn't mind staying behind. It was always worth the sacrifice… that was something she'd learned long ago.

Glancing back over to her bag, she remembered she'd thrown a book in and pulled it out. Getting comfortable, she grabbed the last Eggo out of the picnic basket and she chewed on it as she tried to read, while her friends splashed around on a sandbar further out. El didn't see how Mike looked over his shoulder towards her every few minutes, eyes lost in the pages of her paperback, smiling at the story.

After almost half an hour the heat was starting to get to her and she sighed, rolling over on the blanket and pulling her sunscreen out of her bag, realizing she'd been in such a hurry to get down here and eat that she'd forgot to put any on. She'd burned herself enough times over past summers to know better than to forgo the SPF. And a sunburn would clash with her red bridesmaid dress.

Glancing over her shoulder she spotted all of her friends still further out in the waves, bouncing and laughing and tossing a ball around. They were having fun and she felt the familiar and empty feeling of being different. Why couldn't she just be normal? Why did her past get to keep her from going out there and joining them?

Yet another fear that controlled her.

But she glanced at the dark waves and shuddered. To get her mind off of it, she sat up and popped open the tube of sunscreen. It would have been smarter to do this when Max or Will or _someone_ had been here to help, she realized as she struggled to rub the lotion over her back.

"Need a hand?"

An unfamiliar voice disturbed her thoughts and she looked up at a young man she guessed was a few years younger than her, college age, maybe. He was thickset, with long brown hair and a smile that made her skin crawl.

"Um, no thanks… I'm okay," she scooted away and broke eye contact, wondering why this total stranger thought offering to put sunscreen on her was a good idea.

"You're going to burn. You're pretty pale." He moved to sit down next to her and she stiffened. "I'm Chase by the way. My friends," he gestured back and El looked over her shoulder to see a crowd of what had to be frat boys watching them eagerly, "thought I should come help you out."

"No… it's okay," she shook her head, frowning as he ignored her and grabbed the tube of sunscreen from her. "Seriously, I don't know you."

"You could."

He was grinning at her, his eyes wandering down to her bikini clad figure and she felt herself shudder, totally repulsed. A flash of annoyed irritation buzzed through her. What was with this guy? Did no not mean no anymore? With a frown she snatched the sunscreen back and scooted further away, wanting him to get the very obvious hint and vanish. Before she gave in and pulled his greasy hair out of his scalp with her mind. That would certainly get him to leave her alone. She decided to give him one more chance to fuck off.

"No, ew, I don't want—" She started to snarl.

"Hey, babe, you need some help?"

She knew this voice and looked up from under her hat, at the tall, dripping figure of Mike. A wave of relief washed over her as she realized what he was doing, let herself smile prettily back at him, patting the blanket next to her.

"Yes, please… sweetheart," she gave Chase a pointed look as Mike plopped down, handing her ex-boyfriend the tube and then turning her back to him. The pet-name felt forced but she was hoping it would be enough. "I thought you were going to stay out longer?"

"I thought you might be lonely." He was grinning playfully at their ruse. "And you looked like you needed some help."

The douchebag was still sitting next to them, looking somewhere between disappointed and annoyed. Mike glanced over as he started applying the sunscreen to her back, eyebrows raised. A clear challenge.

"Did you need something?" He had that dominant tone she usually only heard when he was mad or screwing her brains out and it made her shiver at his touch. Chase scrambled up, dusting sand off and shrugging.

"No, uh, nevermind. Nice to meet you."

He was gone and El watched as his fraternity brothers welcomed him back into their fold, slapping his shoulder and offering condolences. As if that game plan would have worked!? She snorted out loud, shaking her head and heard Mike let out a matching noise of annoyance as he finished rubbing in the sunscreen. His hands were warm and he rubbed her muscles, the ones in her lower back that were tense from arching for so long during their previous encounter, making her sigh and lean back, into his touch. Damn that felt good.

His voice was low in her ear as he worked the muscles. "Sorry, I know you could have handled that. I just thought I'd help."

"It's fine," she breathed and then opened her eyes as his hands pulled away. "I mean, it's okay. I didn't really want to break his fingers anyways. Too much yelling."

Normally she might have been upset that he thought she couldn't handle herself. She wasn't a helpless child. But honestly it was just easier now and he'd been pretty lowkey. It was something a friend would do. A quicker fix than a confrontation.

Mike snorted, amused. "Would you be the one yelling or would he?"

"Both."

He chuckled as he scooted back from her and she let herself turn to face him. His back was turned and he was digging through the picnic basket and pulling out a water bottle, taking a long drink, head thrown back, dark hair clinging to his neck and face. El found herself biting her lip, as she let her eyes wander across his form, unable to keep from noticing the way his wet grey t-shirt clung to the lightly-chiseled muscles in his chest. When had he become muscular? She remembered the broadness of his chest when she'd clung to him, and the firmness of his biceps when he'd held her against the bathroom door.

His eyes caught hers over her sunglasses, the cat eye frames slipping down her nose, and she quickly looked away flushing, as he put the water bottle back. Hot damn.

"So… how's your book?" He asked, glancing down at the cover that showed a small mouse holding up a sword and shield. "Ooh, Redwall. That's a good one."

"I just started. It's really fun so far. I didn't think mice could be so interesting."

"He really brings the characters to life, you almost forget you're reading about like, animals. Not as good as Lord of the Rings, but, you know, still pretty good," he teased, smirking at her, one eye closed to block out the glare of the sun.

Her heart was racing and she quickly looked out at the ocean again, feeling like she could use a bit of a cool down. The deep water held no appeal, but maybe sitting at the edge and getting her feet wet would be nice…

"Um, I think I want to go… sit." She swallowed, pointing to the shallows. "Out there."

"Really?"

"Just for a bit… I bought this swimsuit, I should get it wet," she shrugged, wanting to be casual despite the nervousness that tickled at her at the thought of getting closer to the water. "Just the shallow part." She looked back over at him, noticing how his eyes lingered on her aforementioned swimsuit, tracing the shape of her body beneath the stretchy fabric. Did he like it?

He swallowed heavily and looked away. "Yeah, that makes sense. I can sit with you if you want. Um, if that would be okay."

That sounded more than okay and she started to perk up before glancing around at the collection of towels and bags. Oh right. Her one job.

"Shoot, nevermind. Someone has to watch our stuff…"

"Oh. Right. Yeah, you go ahead, I'll stay here," he quickly agreed, looking disappointed. "I can stay behind."

The courage that had made her think venturing further out suddenly vanished at the thought of doing it alone. Maybe not, maybe she would stay on the safety of her blanket and keep reading her book, trying to ignore how good Mike looked as he sat mere inches away from—

"Hey guys, what are you doing?" Will was standing in front of her and then plopping down next to her.

"Just talking," El answered quickly. "Are you done swimming?"

"Yeah… I was getting a little cold."

Will had never stopped hating the cold. It was one of the reasons she'd been surprised he wanted to move to New York instead of Florida or Arizona. Joyce was always sending him sweaters and socks and huge jackets to help him get through the winters. He reached for his towel and wrapped it around his shoulders, basking in the warm sun.

"Gotcha," she nodded.

Mike cleared his throat from the other side of her and she glanced back at him. He was fidgeting with the tie of his swim trunks as he looked at her, smiling hopefully.

"Did you still want to hit the shallows? Now that there's someone to watch our stuff?" It was a pretty straightforward question but he seemed apprehensive. Maybe he didn't know where they stood anymore than she did. "If you want," he added quickly. "No pressure."

She hesitated but the thought seemed much less scary with him there. Nodding, she made the move to stand up. "Yeah, okay. Let's do it."

Will assured them that he would be fine on his own, smiling and looking too satisfied with himself. El chose to ignore her brother's knowing look, dusting the sand off the back of her suit and then taking a few hesitant steps towards the ocean.

Mike noticed her hesitant pace and stayed at her side, letting it be on her time and not rushing her or saying anything. When her feet touched wet sand she looked down at the froth of bubbles in each wave as they lapped at her ankles. It felt nice.

"This is good," she said with a smile, more to herself than him.

"You want to sit?"

"Um… yes."

They did, the cool water feeling refreshing, clear enough for her to watch the sand ripple and pull with each wave. It was hypnotic and they sat in silence as she stared, feeling content with where she was and who she was with. The water felt good lapping between her legs, helping to soothe away the sore ache left over from the night before. God, it had been intense but she'd loved every second. Even now she couldn't make herself regret it, even though it almost hurt to walk.

She let herself glance over at him, wondering if he felt the same. Clearly they weren't over each other but she was still haunted by the pain of the past, unwilling to let that conversation happen. Not right now, when she felt happy and glowy and lighter than she had in years, the sun warm on her knees the ocean cool on her legs and soft comfort of his pinkie bumping hers. Instead she let her eyes close, breathing in the salty air and exhaling the anxiety as much as possible.

"Remember when we were swimming at the quarry?" The words left her mouth without a solid reason, the same memory that had troubled her earlier suddenly much easier to handle. "And you were nice and sat with me like this the whole time."

"They dragged me out to play chicken every fifteen minutes," he argued, a teasing glint in his eye. "So, it wasn't the _whole_ time. That would have been way too nice of me."

"Okay, fine. _Most_ of the time." She rolled her eyes at his bad attempt to flirt but then sighed, relaxing as she looked back over the water. "That was a good day."

"It was."

There was a quiet moment as they both remembered all that had happened that day in the past, when there were no barriers or distance between them. It was a solemn reminder of what they weren't anymore and El frowned, starting to regret bringing it up. Mike spoke up again, the teasing tone back in his voice, "And I beat you in that splash war so—"

"Woah, wait. No you didn't," she snorted.

He gave her a smile that was charming but full of pity, eyebrows tweaked together in blatant disbelief. "I totally did."

"Did not."

"You literally said, 'I give up', I'm pretty sure that counts as me winning."

"Nuh uh, no way!" Her hand dragged through the water between them and she laughed as she flicked it at him, splattering his t-shirt and neck and making him yelp in surprise.

He grinned and splashed back and suddenly they were both thrashing and sloshing around and trying to splatter each other with as much salty water as possible, knee deep into the sand and waves. El laughed and shrieked and crawled away from him, using her mind to tug his shirt back and then doused him thoroughly with another splash, grinning as he gasped and stared at her with widening eyes, yelping, "That's cheating!"

She giggled as playful outrage filled his face and then he lunged for her, his arms wrapping around her waist. "You're gonna pay for that!" he threatened with a laugh, pulling her out into the waist deep water and dipping her under. It was waist deep for him anyways, but more like chest deep to her and she gasped as she went under, choking on salty foam. Suddenly she was floating in a prison of glass in the darkness, the sound of water and the distant roar of a monster filling her ears.

He pulled her back up and she was coughing, eyes stinging, thrashing to get out of his arms. Fear pounded through her, filling every vein, and she managed to shove his arms off and move frantically towards the shore. The sand gave way under her feet and then she was crawling on all fours, up onto sand, almost to dry land, feeling like she was drowning even though she was mostly out of the water.

"Oh, shit." It was choked gasp behind her and she felt a hand on her back, trying to help her as she cowered away. "El, fuck, I'm so sorry, I just, I forgot for like two seconds and I—"

She heard his words but couldn't react. How could he have forgotten? The whole reason she hadn't joined them out on the sand bar was because she was terrified. How could he just _forget_?

Turning her head to look, she glared at him, tears streaming down her face, watching his expression go from guilty and worried to utterly distraught. She opened her mouth to say something, anything, to ask how he could fucked up, but instead she cried out and looked down.

A sharp pain ripped up her left shin and she gasped, rolling over and trying to figure out what had happened catching the glint of a broken glass bottle just as a wave pulled it back into the ocean, burying it under the sand. Her gaze went to the pain burning up her leg and she saw a broad, jagged tear in her flesh, right next to her shin bone, ugly and a good three inches long. A wash of red was pouring out, the tide pulling it out to sea as she stared in disbelief.

"Oh!" She cried out, the sight making her suddenly woozy. Sure, she'd seen lots of blood before, her own as well as others, but something about the feel of the torn skin and the burn of the sea salt and _why was there so much blood_?

"El? What's wrong—" She heard Mike's panicked gasp and managed to roll herself all the way over, barely holding herself up on her elbows, unable to tear her eyes away from the blood. "Oh my god! Oh shit!"

His hands were on her and he was saying something, about a tower and a first aid kit and then Will was there too, helping to drag her further up the beach, away from the stinging waves. There were pulsating black stars dancing in the center of her vision and she felt the familiar feeling that came before she passed out creeping up, hot all over. Suddenly there was something cold pouring into the wound and she inhaled sharply as the salt was washed out, a stinging relief. Her hearing came back, the black edges starting to fade from her sight, and she looked up at the worried faces in front of her as they poured fresh water over her leg.

"El, you need a bandage or something, to stop the bleeding, there's a lifeguard tower up the beach, I'm sure they have some supplies," Mike was talking way too fast. "Can you walk? Do you need help?"

"I…" Words were hard. "I'm okay," she managed.

Will exchanged a worried look with his friend before glancing back at his sister.

"Take her to the lifeguards, I'll tell the others what happened, okay?" Will's arm was under hers, trying to help her stand but her legs felt heavy and her shin was _throbbing_. "C'mon, El, you have to help us."

"Here, I got her."

There were two warm arms under her legs and shoulders and then she was being hoisted into the air, the staccato thump of a heartbeat in her ear as her head pressed against the soaked fabric of his shirt. It took her several seconds to realize it was Mike, carrying her bridal style and hurrying her up the beach towards a small, raised hut several hundred feet away.

 _When did he get strong enough to carry me?_ The thought broke through the haze of pain and she wrapped her arms more securely around his neck, nestling against him. He'd carried her before, back when they were teens, but he'd wobbled, shaky and unsure, before thumping her onto the bed or couch and panting. Now he was solid and warm and safe and she found she would be happy to stay like that forever.

"Hello?" His voice buzzed against her temple as they neared the small building. "I need some help! Hello?!"

He knocked on the door and then tried the handle, grunting in annoyance as he realized it was locked. She wasn't heavy but he seemed to be struggling to carry her and get inside and he bumped his shoulder against the door, as if he was considering breaking it down.

 _No no, you'll only hurt herself_ , she chastised silently.

With a jerk of her chin she switched the lock mechanism and turned the knob, the door swinging open to a cool, dry area. There was a cot in the corner and a wall of cabinets with a counter on one side. Mike quickly and carefully set her on the cot, before turning and tearing through the cabinets.

El watched him, trying to organize everything in her mind as the shock wore off. The brief rush of adrenaline had faded but she avoided looking at the slash in her skin, afraid it would make her dizzy again. Instead she watched the muscles in his back tense as he dug through a cabinet, sighing in relief as he found the medical supplies.

After another second he came back holding a brown bottle of peroxide and some gauze, kneeling down and reaching for her leg. He held it out carefully, biting his lip as he looked at the ugly cut, clearly worried.

"It might sting, okay? I mean, it shouldn't, but if it does—"

"It's okay," she whispered, nodding slightly.

He poured the peroxide onto the garish wound, watching as it bubbled and foamed, destroying the bacteria and germs from the dirty ocean water. It was a nasty gash, the skin shredded and swollen. El stayed silent as he gently dabbed at it with the gauze and then went to bandaging it up as best as possible, putting pressure to stop the bleeding. Soon there was a pile of stained white squares on the floor but the red had stopped pouring out, much to their relief. He was clumsy but gentle, using the medical tape to fasten the dressing before looking up at her from where he was kneeled in front of her.

"Better?"

"Yeah… thank you." He was close, so close she could feel his breath on her skin. "I… I'm sorry, I almost passed out," she mumbled, feeling ashamed. "I've seen more blood than that."

"Sometimes it's different when it's yours," he shrugged. "When you can feel it. Don't feel bad. I'm just glad it wasn't worse." There was a pause and then he swallowed guiltily. " _I'm_ the one who needs to apologize, it's all my fault, I shouldn't have dragged you out so deep… this wouldn't have happened."

"You didn't know there was a broken beer bottle." She acquiesced, but she wasn't ready to forgive him for dunking her quite yet.

"No but… I shouldn't have pulled you out. I don't know what I was thinking—no, I wasn't thinking, I just wanted to make you laugh…" He was red-faced, part shame part embarrassment, shaking his head at himself. "I'm so fucking stupid sometimes. I know you hate deep water."

"I heard the monster," she said quietly staring off into space. "I haven't heard it in a long time."

It was true. The demons of the past were buried, a pile of ash where the lab once stood. Her friends had made sure of that. Monsters and portals were just bad dreams now, and even they didn't visit her as often as they used to. But she still didn't go to lakes or pools, only the bathtub at her parent's house shallow enough to keep her from feeling too immersed. Showers were still preferred.

But the ringing in her ears, the distant screaming of an interdimensional being haunted her and she shivered, his hands on her thighs the only thing that felt warm. It took a moment to come back from her thoughts but when she did, she realized he looked totally crushed.

"El, I'm sorry, fuck, I'm so sorry." He pulled his hands away and leaned back from her, like he was afraid his touch would hurt her too, brow furrowed. "I… I didn't mean to—I just—I-I mean—"

"Mike."

She said his name the way she knew would get him to shut up, soft but firm, her hands reaching and pulling him closer, her palms resting on the back of his neck. It was a convenient height and she looked him right in the eye, shaking her head. His remorse was clear, it was a stupid act of forgetfulness, not malicious intent. When had he ever _tried_ to hurt her? Not when he'd been full of emotion and said something he didn't mean, but when he'd wanted to _hurt_ her, without an apology or speck of remorse.

She couldn't think of a single time.

"It's okay," she breathed, bringing him even closer. "It's alright. I forgive you."

Anything to keep him from pulling away again. If there was one thing she couldn't deal with in that moment, it would be the feel of him pulling away. She needed him closer, her hands moving up to tangle into his hair, the familiar signal. He moved closer, between her legs, still kneeling in front of her, their breath mingling as he cupped her face.

She closed the distance, her lips brushing his and then he surged forward, his thumbs stroking her cheekbones as he kissed her, an apology and a need and question all in one. Her fingers caught the fabric of his damp shirt and she tugged it, wanting to feel his bare skin. The kiss deepened and then he leaned back and pulled the shirt over his head. Their chests crushed together and she shivered, tucking her face into his neck, leaving tiny kisses as his arms wrapped around her and held her close. It wasn't animalistic hunger or a desperate need, but something much more simple.

"I just want to keep you safe," he whispered, voice strained, his eyes searching hers. "I didn't mean to hurt you. I'm sorry, El."

It wasn't just the deep water and the broken bottle, but the years of uncertain hurt and anger that had built between them both. Neither were ready to address it directly yet, but she gripped him tighter, her fingers running over the thin lines of scabbing she'd left on his shoulders and back. The scars on his heart throbbed against hers and she pressed a kiss to the curve of his neck.

Her voice was a quiet murmur, "I'm sorry too."

The misconception that both had stopped wanting the other had been kissed and touched and soothed away, and now they were acknowledging it, knowing they had hurt one another by not being totally honest. Her letting him think she didn't want him to stay, him letting her think he didn't want her enough to try harder to stay… or convince her to leave with him. The details were fuzzy but they didn't matter in that moment because they were together and they were sorry.

His hand was cupping her face again, bringing her back to his lips and this kiss was was lighter, full of forgiveness. That was the past now. It didn't matter anymore. Not right now.

El closed her eyes and gave in, let the kisses grow hotter and sloppier, let herself whimper and gasp as he moved against her. He was much more gentle, like it was a reassurance and not some caveman-based need to try and fuck her as hard as possible. His fingers were inching up her thigh and she groaned as he met her center, a pulse of pleasure rippling through her. Her hips bucked to meet his hand as he slid it beneath the bottoms of her swimsuit, finding the spot that made her arch against him.

"M-Mike," she whimpered. He kissed her again in reply.

Two fingers pushed into her and a whine of pain escaped her lips as her eyes jumped open, not expecting it to _hurt_. Maybe it made sense, they'd gone two rounds yesterday and neither time had been gentle. She was raw and she couldn't pretend otherwise, her hand grabbing his wrist and quickly pulling him away. His eyes widened in alarm.

"Shit, are you hurt—"

"Just sore," she shook her head, apologetic but not upset with him. "Remember last night? And the morning before?"

"Oh… shit, yeah. I'm sorry." He looked a bit ashamed, glancing down at her body again.

She guessed he might have been a bit proud of how thorough he'd been if he wasn't so worried about her. Instead of pouting he furrowed in thought, pulling his hand out of her swim bottoms, moving to kiss her again. He eased her onto her back on the cot and she let him, unsure of what he was doing but not unwilling. His kisses moved to her neck, teasing and tickling as he went lower and lower. As his lips grazed her hip bone, she realized what his goal was, shuddering in anticipation. She'd barely been able to find the will to stop him earlier and she had no intention of stopping him now.

Her bikini bottoms were tugged down her legs, just far enough for him to squeeze his head between her thighs, her knees over his shoulders. Their eyes met and she bit her lip, watching as he grinned smugly at how willing she was and then buried his face between her legs. A gasp left her and she jolted against him, his tongue much softer than his fingers, the painful ache fading. Fuck, she'd forgotten how good he was with his mouth. And how much he loved it.

His tongue was everywhere, plunging into her and then lapping across her clit, making her hips buck up, craving more. He teased at first, light pressure, light touches, gentle nibbles. Her thighs clenched and she whined, soft pleas echoing from her throat, his name gasping from her lips as he worked her with his mouth, the pressure slowly increasing.

Her head fell back against the sorry excuse for a pillow, eyes closing as he increased the intensity, sucking the sensitive nerves and then tonguing her, spelling words of lust and making her back arch off the cot. She tried to keep from crying out, knowing there were people outside of the hut, nothing between them but a thin door. Her mind locked it just in case and then he nibbled her again and she couldn't think about anything that wasn't the feel of his tongue against her wet folds and his hands gripping her thighs.

"Mike, _please_ ," she whined, wanting more.

Even when he didn't ask her to, she would beg, unable to keep herself from asking for more. He looked up at her again and she was rocking her hips against his mouth, feeling so close. His ebony gaze, and his tongue, and the way his hair flopped into his eyes as he gave her his all, pushed her to the edge. His stare was intense, the same way he looked at her when he fucked her completely. She was sure she was about to cry, it felt so good. Her legs clamped shut and she knew she was there but she couldn't think, couldn't breathe, couldn't feel anything but—

"Oh, _Mike_!'

She spasmed, throwing a hand over her mouth to stifle her cry, feeling the familiar warmth that spread from her center to her fingertips wash over her. Her breath came in gasps, and she unclenched her legs, hearing a matching gasp from below as he pulled away.

Everything was warm and soft and she smiled lazily as he sat up, carefully untangling himself from her legs and pulling her bottoms up as he crawled back over her, crashing onto her, the taste of herself on his lips as he kissed her hungrily. His appetite was waking up again and she smiled against his lips, more than willing to give him something in return.

Her hand slid down his chest and stomach, feeling the slight muscles and then she was inside of his swim trunks, her fingers wrapping around his girth. He was already halfway hard and with a few strokes he was groaning against her, face buried into her neck, his breath hot as he gasped. She wanted to make him feel good, remembering how she used to get him off under blankets during movies when no one noticed. Her thumb stroked the head of his cock and she slowed, squeezing him firmly and hearing him grunt, his hips jutting against her hand.

She let him move, finding the pace he needed and then using her hand to keep it, feeling him moan and pant against her, wishing she could take him inside of her. But if they were going to be able to go again this week, she needed to rest, trying to be content with feeling him thrustinghis hips against her palm as he breathed her name.

His fingers made their way up her waist, to the edge of her ruffled swim top, catching the edge. He yanked it down, exposing a breast, taking her nipple into his mouth, making her gasp, her pace faltering for a second. It felt _good_ and she moaned, her head falling back, but her hand didn't stop. "This swimsuit, fuck, El, it's not fair how hot you look," he breathed against her throat. "I almost lost it when I first saw you in it. And that guy talking to you…"

He jerked her up the cot, pulling her hand away, and then he slammed himself between her legs, frantically rutting his rock hard cock against her covered center, his breath grunting out of him as he tried to find his edge. Their swimsuits were thin enough that it felt almost bare and she gasped at the sensation. It was as close as they could get and she wrapped her legs around his hips and whimpered, avoiding rubbing her bandage on him, letting him take control.

"I would have fought him if he touched you, El." His hips moved faster, his lips on her breast again, leaving a stinging bite on the underside that made her gasp out loud. "You're sexy as fuck and he knew it and I would have knocked him out. Fuck, El, _fuck_!"

"Mike," she gasped again, knowing he was so close. Jealousy had always made it easier for him to get there and she moaned for him, a sound she knew drove him crazy. "I didn't want him to touch me. I only want you to touch me," she replied, rocking her hips to meet him. He was grunting and she arched her back up to him, pulling him down to her lips by his hair and letting out a needy whimper. "It's you, Mike, only you."

It was truth, she would never let someone this close again, and his eyes widened for a moment before she shoved her hand back into his swim trunks, gripping his cock tightly and furrowing her face. Her words and her hand and her body were exactly enough. He grunted loudly and thrusted against her palm, spilling into her hand as he came, crashing against her like a wave on a shore.

"Fuck," he gasped and the needy tone was gone, replaced with grateful amazement. "Damn, babe."

El smiled at the term of endearment, the second time it had left his lips without him even noticing. The same name he'd called her when they'd _been_ something. What he had called her when she had been his. It felt right and it was still satisfying knowing she could get him off without even getting completely naked. They lay there as he caught his breath and then he looked down at her and grinned crookedly. His lips found her and she smiled, the fear and pain from ten minutes ago lost in the endorphins he'd just given her, her wounded leg forgotten as she wrapped her free arm around his neck and laughed.

"I like this. Whatever it is," he whispered, nuzzling his nose against her temple. "I don't think I ever want to stop."

"Me either."

They caught their breath and then he sat back, grimacing and standing up to waddle over to the sink, grabbing some paper towels and busying himself before walking back to her and gently cleaning off her hand. He threw it away with the bloody gauze while sliding his shirt back on, ending up on the other side of the room again. El sat up more slowly, pulling her bikini top back up, pressing her thighs together and feeling satisfied. He was too good to her.

"Do you think we should—" She started.

"El? Mike?" It was Will.

There creaky footsteps outside and she flipped the lock on the door open just as his hand touched the handle. It turned and Will stepped into the tower, looking around. She waved at him from her place on the cot and he quickly walked to her, looking down at the mess of white gauze on her leg and frowning.

"Do you think you'll need stitches? Can I see?" She nodded and carefully peeled the bandage off. He was worried and as her endorphin rush started to fade, the pain came back, wincing as he inspected the gaping wound. "It's pretty ugly…" He turned his attention to Mike who was casually washing his hands in the sink. "Hey, did you find any of that medical glue? I think we could glue it and not have to take her to the ER for stitches."

"Oh… I didn't think about that," Mike admitted. "I was just trying to get the bleeding to stop."

"Let me check."

He dove into the cabinets and reappeared holding a bottle of what looked like super glue and then Mike was holding her hand as she winced, gritting her teeth as Will glued the wound shut. She blinked away tears, looking up at Mike, who was staring back intensely, something she couldn't quite read filling his eyes. He offered her a small, secret smile, and she looked away with her own smile, knowing he was thinking about what had just happened between them. It was quiet, the air charged with some sort of tension, and she decided to break the silence.

"Dustin said… you guys work out?" She winced against, her hands squeezing his large ones as Will blew on the glue. "Since when?"

Her brother didn't look up. "That's Mike's fault."

"Oh, jeez, sorry the company I work for gave me a free gym membership and that I got you one at half-price." Mike rolled his eyes and then focused back on El. "Since we mostly sit at our computers and program all day, they don't want us all keeling over at our desks. They have all these incentives to work out, I have a physical every few months and if I meet certain requirements I get perks. The free gym membership is standard but I got a new bike and a trainer and a discount for Will…"

"It's fine. It's probably good he makes me go with him," Will admitted, starting to stand back up.

"I hate going alone, the dudes there are always ten times my size and they look at me like I'm going to snap… we go like once a week," he explained to El. "It's not that big of a deal, I'm still a noodle, just a noodle who won't have a coronary any time soon."

"You're not a noodle," she sniffed, eyeing the toned muscles in his arms and chest. "Or you're… fettuccine instead of spaghetti now." She liked pasta and made it a lot, deciding it was a fair comparison. He would never not be long and tall, she supposed, but the broadening out was noticeable. She couldn't keep a teasing smirk off her face. "A stronger noodle."

"Aw, thanks," he deadpanned, a grin giving away his true feelings. "Maybe someday I'll make it to a lasagna noodle."

At that El snorted, shaking her head and laughing. "Not likely."

"Are you two done? We should probably get out of here," Will interrupted tiredly, glancing between the two in a gesture that felt suddenly familiar. He raised an eyebrow at El and she flushed pink. Shit, they'd totally been flirting in front of him.

"Uh, y-yeah," Mike agreed quickly, looking equally embarrassed and turning his attention back to her. "Did you need me to carry you again or are you good now?"

"Um…"

He helped her up, his arm steadying her, but she felt hesitant to put all her weight on her injured leg, the glue making it feel tight. With a frown she hobbled a few steps, unsure of whether or not she wanted to try and walk… but she would have to walk for the wedding so getting a limp now wouldn't help.

"I'm okay."

"You sure?" Mike didn't look convinced and she rolled her eyes at him.

"Yes. It's sand anyways. If I fall it won't hurt."

"Or you could just let me carry you." He was being overprotective again but instead of snapping she just shook her head. For a second he looked ready to argue but then deflated and nodded.

"Here, El, you can lean on me." Will offered his shoulder and she managed to walk over to him, leaning against him and wrapping her arm around his waist as he held her by her shoulder. It was considerably more sturdy and she nodded happily as he helped her down to the beach. She could feel Mike following closely behind, as if he was ready to catch her if she stumbled.

Part of her was still thinking about her apology back there. She had made him go, and she hadn't told him the truth about the scholarship—which he thankfully didn't know about—but he had apologized too, for leaving. It was all so… _messy_. She wanted to pretend like that had been enough but somehow she still had questions and feelings she didn't know what to do with. Was he really sorry? Sorry enough to move back home?"

 _Stop it_ , she chastised herself, stumbling for a second and feeling his hand steady her from behind. _You can't make him give up everything_.

If he was happy in New York, then that's where he needed to stay.

It was starting to hurt again so she pushed it away. No, they still had the rest of the week. She didn't have to deal with that yet and she didn't intend to. Right now, they had each other and their bodies and that was enough. He wanted her, he couldn't resist her, he would fucking fight a douchebag on the beach for her…

She bit her lip, a shiver escaping her at his words. He'd always been… not outrightly possessive, so much as just dominant. They'd never been so codependent that they didn't have separate interests, and usually she shut down anyone interested in her so quickly that he didn't have a chance to be jealous. Her love had been strong enough he'd never worried, but when someone moved in on her… it drove him nuts.

Apparently that hadn't changed.

And thinking about Lace again, how she'd been so lewd about what she would do to him… El was thinking bashing in some heads didn't sound like the worst thing. She'd kept herself from other men, not wanting anyone but him. It felt safe to assume he'd done the same.

They finally made it back to the blanket where their three friends were waiting, looking worried, but at the sight of them she smiled and gave a thumbs up. They cheered and helped her sit and she explained what had happened, leaving out the part where Mike had dragged her into deep water, deciding that wasn't important anymore.

"God, there are so many assholes who throw their shit everywhere. Littering is disgusting and I'm tired of it." Max sighed. "They just don't respect nature or the ocean and they're killing animals and hurting people and—"

"Babe," Lucas set a soothing hand on her arm. "They suck, but we're glad El's okay now, right?"

"Right. Sorry. It's one of those things that gets me really worked up."

Everyone took turns staring at her garish wound but once she assured them she was okay they all headed back to the waves, except for Dustin who insisted on keeping her company, pulling out a pack of cards and playing go fish which devolved into him showing her a couple of lame magic tricks causing her to laugh to the point that she was wiping away tears from her eyes. After, he grabbed a beer and laid back on the blanket, under a pair of sunglasses, next to El who was doing the same.

"Hey, sorry about yesterday, at dinner. Asking you and Mike… that was such an asshole thing to do," he said abruptly. "I know you guys still have shit to work out but it wasn't cool of me to be a dick about it."

"We… what?" She sat up and he turned to look at her behind his tinted frames, raising an eyebrow at her.

"I'm just saying. He's been trying to get your attention…" _Oh, he's got more than that_ , she thought to herself. "Like hovering around you and shit. I don't know… I know you guys broke up because of the distance but I just think closing yourself off is a bad idea."

" _What_?" She almost felt outraged at how casual he was. "I'm not closing—"

"I mean, you are. And he's too oblivious to notice. As usual." Dustin snorted, laying back, unconcerned. "You said you guys talked. That's good. You should do it more often."

"Dustin…" She sighed, suddenly feeling tired. "It's more complicated than that."

"Is it? Or do you just think it is?"

El frowned, trying to think of a good point that would rebuke his unorthodox opinions but lost her chance when Max wandered up the beach and tag-teamed Dustin out. Apparently they were all going to take turns hanging out with her since she couldn't be left alone without hurting herself or being harrassed… she didn't mind. She'd missed spending time with her friends.

The rest of the afternoon flew by, full of warm sand and warmer sun and happy conversations with her favorite people. But Dustin's words kept coming back to her and she didn't know why. It wasn't that simple and she knew it. There were so many things that made it impossible for her and Mike to truly get back together. That's why she had resigned herself to keep things physical. The distance alone was hard enough, but she was starting to realize she didn't trust herself. She'd lied to him once… and he'd only ever been honest and good. How could she go back to him knowing she'd broken the first rule he'd ever given her?

 _Friends don't lie_. And lovers don't either.

By the time the sun set her skin was turning a golden brown and her leg didn't throb quite as much. Max helped her back to her room and she ended up in the shower again, her mind thinking back to the forgiveness in the lifeguard tower and Dustin's words. She washed the salt and sand from her body, feeling the bruises still on her hips and the slight throb from the gash on her leg and sighing heavily.

When she left the bathroom, in her pajamas with a towel on her head, she looked at her freshly made bed and felt strangely… empty. Her eyes drifted up to the wall that separated them. Mike was just on the other side, but he suddenly felt beyond her reach again, as if she was home and he was in New York, seven hundred and fifty miles away. Staring a moment longer, she quickly shook her head and went to the bed. This was exactly why she had decided to keep things physical, to avoid feeling this way.

She crawled between the covers with a huff, determined to put all of it out of her mind and just sleep. But her pillow smelled like him... the faint tinge of Old Spice and the musk of his sweat. El groaned and flipped the pillows over. At one point all of the sweaters she'd stolen from him had smelled the same. She wasn't sure when the scent of him had faded away, but her heart ached at the memory.

Before she could talk herself out of it she was abandoning her lonely bed, grabbing her key, and pushing the door open.

She limped the short distance to his room, knocking quickly. Her heart was suddenly going a hundred miles an hour as all of the emotions she had been suppressing started rushing upwards. The few seconds it took him to answer the door felt like eternity, and she could hear the relief in her sigh when the door opened, and his tall frame peeked through the gap, before opening it further. Surprise written across his handsome features.

"Hi," she said softly, feeling herself smile, her body calming at the sight of him.

"Hey," he returned, a matching smile twitching his lips. "Everything okay?"

"Can I come in?"

"Of course."

He moved to the side and she walked past him, looking around the room, a mirror of her own. The bed was a mess and she realized he hadn't slept in it since their drunken night together.

Did his sheets and pillows still have her smell too?

She looked over her shoulder at him, unsure of what to say now that she was actually there in his room. He was quiet too, leaning against the now closed door, his eyes studying her. The smile that had just been there was now gone, replaced with thinly veiled concern that furrowed his brows. He'd always been able to read her like a book, and she felt exposed under his watchful dark eyes, sure he could see every part of her frantic mind.

Her heart rate was racing again.

What had she been thinking coming here? There was a slash of self-doubt and then the panic welled up like blood in a cut, the same panic when she'd smashed the plate, when she knew she was _wrong_ but she didn't know how to make it better.

Mike's voice brought her back. Like it always had.

"Hey, come here," was all he said, his arms opening, feet moving, and she was so relieved she could only do as he told her. Without another thought she went to him, letting him pull her against his chest, her hands pressed between them, his long arms wrapping around her waist, as he tucked her head under his chin. He was dressed for bed too, his hair damp like hers, the smell of him, fresh and clean, filling her nose as he pressed her against his neck. A sigh left her and she felt every muscle in her body relax. This was what she wanted.

"What's wrong, El?" he murmured against her forehead.

"Nothing," she told him truthfully, her voice thick with emotion. It wasn't a lie because in that moment with his arms around her everything was perfect. "Will you just hold me?"

The question surprised her, as well as the realization that it was exactly what she _needed_. To just be held.

"Of course," he whispered, his arms tightening around her. She hummed her appreciation and snuggled herself closer, letting out a long breath as well as all the tension in her body that had been building since the lifeguard stand.

"Come on," he told her releasing her after a moment and gesturing towards the bed. "You should get off that leg."

He sat down on the edge of the mattress, arms winding around her waist and pulling her down next to him. They laid back against the pillows, his arm around her, her head on his chest, and their legs twined together. She scooted her body impossibly close until their chests and hips and legs were pressed against each other and a sigh of relief left her.

"Is this okay?" she asked him sleepily, her eyelids suddenly heavy. The exhaustion of the day that had been swallowed by anxiety was now overbearing.

"Yeah," he whispered back, and she felt a kiss pressed to her forehead. Looking up she was surprised by the intensity behind his eyes. "You should stay with me."

"Mike…" she breathed, her eyes searching his. He exhaled sharply, his hand spreading out across her lower back, warm and solid and comforting.

"T-Tonight. You—You should just sleep here," he quickly amended.

El was so tired and drained and so engulfed by her need to be close to him, she could only nod, and let him kiss her. This time when their lips met it wasn't needy but consuming, some silent sentiment passing between them. A reassurance.

When he pulled away, he was quick to tuck her back against him, and it seemed that they were both trying to hide how breathless and overwhelmed the kiss had left them. Her body was telling her what she already knew, what she was desperate to forget. What she had been ignoring since his plane had left her in Hawkins, cold and alone. The truth at the core of her being, that had been there since they were twelve and he'd given her a jacket and a name and a sense of humanity.

Sleep was weighing heavy on her tired mind, the warmth and familiarity of the closeness making it impossible to resist. But there was the thought, lingering there, as his hand slid up her back to stroke the curls at the nape of her neck. A sigh left her lips.

Her heart beat out each letter of his name and she curled further into him, letting the warmth spread through her entire body, giving in to it, letting it consume her as kissed her again. Letting the thought whisper into her mind, safe from the panic and the fear.

 _I love him_.

* * *

 ** _AN:_**

 ** _I guess you could say they've figured... something out lol. I'm getting closer to the end and I'm estimating this one might have about twelve chapters and maybe an epilogue. Definitely an epilogue. So you're almost half way there, imagine that._**

 ** _As always, leave me reviews, tell me what you think. There's much more to come and so far everything seems awfully... good. Where the hell is that angst I was talking about? Who knows._**

 ** _I appreciate you all a fucking lot. Hope you won't forget that._**

 ** _~Wynn_**


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